


Forever

by kirschtrash



Series: A Blinding Light [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, alternative universe, blind!marco AU, enjoy this fluffy piece, jeanmarco, proposing, well folks the tags say it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4028953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I begin contemplating the prospect of a 'forever' with Jean Kirschtein, and I smile to myself, knowing how happy I am to be a part of it."</p><p>A three-shot, full of fluff and feels, of Jean and Marco getting married - and of events taking place before and after it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mine

_"I won't give up on us,_

_Even if the skies get rough._

_I'm giving you all my love;_

_I'm still looking up."_

_\- I Won't Give Up, by Jason Mraz._

 

* * *

 

 

_**Mine.** _

 

The rays of sunlight shine through the window, and fall on me. I can feel the warmth over my exposed skin, so soothing, like a lover's embrace. My sheets cover my bare body up to my waist, so that my torso is exposed to the light.

I blink and open my eyes.

It gets a little blurry, and my heart skips a beat.

But after blinking twice, my vision focuses again, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I see the heavy beams of bright, yellow light streaming in to the room. When my eyes focus a little more, I see bits of dust floating up, up, and up... till they vanish. The sight is mesmerizing, as I stare at them constantly, and I realize how thankful I am to be able to witness this. _It’s just some dust particles_ , one would say. But to me, it proves my ability to finally _see._

It’s been several months since I got my sight back. The world had become entirely new to me, with all the new, _foreign_ colors and textures I could finally see - all at once. It was amazing to see the world in a whole new perspective, but it was also over-whelming; it felt as if just yesterday the world was dark for me, and now its awake and alight, filled with beauty I hadn't seen before. Now I can finally look at the things I used to let my imagination perceive - I can look at flowers, the sky, the sea, dandelions, people...

I can finally see my lover, too. _Jean_.

The thought makes my heart flutter; when I first got my sight, I remember how the mere look of him reduced me to tears, because he was so beautiful - with his brass-colored hair, sharp features, and golden eyes, he was truly mesmerizing. And the pure look of love he had looked at me with... The thought makes my eyes watery; I can never get enough of him.

He had helped me ever since; he held me when I felt overwhelmed, he laughed with me in my small victories, he smiled when I saw a dandelion for the first time, and he loved me to bits when we made love - me seeing in to his eyes for the first time, while his were clouded with lust.

Just on cue, I hear a grumble from behind me. I feel a pair of warm, thin arms encircle my bare waist, pulling me in to a tight embrace.

I smile, knowing how  _snugly_  one person gets in the morning.

I turn to look over my right shoulder. I see a mop of blonde hair only. I laugh despite myself, and knock my forehead against it.

Finally, Jean rests his chin on my shoulder, eyes still sticky with sleep. His hair is far from the word " _tidy_ "; cowlicks were standing up everywhere, and it was all I could do to control myself from bursting with laughter. And yet he's still half-asleep...

I kiss his nose lightly, and say "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

His nose wrinkles slightly, but then he just mumbles something incoherently. _He's such a heavy sleeper,_ I think to myself.

I kiss him softly on his lips - moving slowly, enjoying his supple lips; I've lost count of the number of times I've kissed him, but every time I do makes me as jittery as my first time did. He's that intoxicating, I've noticed. It just makes it all the more special.

Deep inside me, I feel a bit of pride light up; he's mine. He will always be mine. And I'm his, because he loves me. He would say it when we'd have breakfast, he would scream it atop the cliff, he would whisper it against my skin, and he had made me believe it - that I'm his, and he is mine.

These thoughts rush in my mind and being driven by a strange force, I pull Jean on top me, and I kiss him firmly, pouring every ounce of affection I have for him, in to that kiss. Jean replies with equal fervor, as he places both his hands against the sides of my neck, tracing my freckled skin with his fingertips.

By then, he's wide awake, and I smile against his lips as he nibbles on my lower lip softly - knowing that it drives me crazy. My hands run up and down his bare back lovingly, kissing him slowly, taking my time to map him - to _memorize_ him.

"Not tired, even after last night, are you?" He asks me, still smiling.

I shake my head, kissing his lips once more. He rests our foreheads together, and finally opens his eyes sleepily.

"G'morning." he mumbles, smiling lazily. _God_ , I'm so lucky to have him as mine.

"And to you as well," I whisper, as I cuddle with him warmly - my arms tight around his waist, his chest flush against mine. I dig my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his lemon-grass scent that he always had, since day one. We lay on our sides now, as content as we could possibly be. He throws a leg across my hips, sighing softly at my kisses, running his fingers through my hair.

"You're a hopeless romantic; did you know that, Marco?"

"Shut up, Jean."

He chuckles, kissing the crown of my head lovingly, before wrapping his arms around me tightly, rubbing hands slowly up and down my back, in soothing circles.

 _Everything feels so perfect right now_ \- I can't help but think;

I'm so desperately in love with Jean.

We stay perfectly still like that, before Jean says, "Hey, Marco..."

I lift my head to look up at him, waiting for him to speak.

"How about we go to the cliff?"

I stare up at him, before asking, "Is there something bothering you-?"

"No, no," he cuts me off, explaining further: "It’s just... It's been some time since we went there, so I just figured if we could, for a while..."

Smiling softly, I whisper against his skin, "Yeah. I'd like that."

He nods slowly. After a few moments, he trails his hands more slowly, taking his time to map my back - dotted with light freckles - as well as he could. The way he could turn from dynamic, to subtle, is something I'll never figure out. Goosebumps start prickling my skin, and my skin heats up as his fingers ghost over my skin, leaving a trail of fire behind.

Then he tilts my head away from his neck, and kisses me softly once more, before staring in to my eyes. He cards his fingers through my hair again, his fingers rubbing soothing circles in my scalp. I sigh breathily, as he tugs a bit. The smallest of smirks graces his face.

He licks his lips slowly, before asking, "I hope you won't mind Round Two, huh?" He bites his lip, before rolling his hips in to mine ever so slightly - enough to light me up.

I swallow a shaky moan, and say, "Never the one to give up, hm?" I smile cheekily at him, as I roll my hips in to his, to make him swear under his breath shakily. We both are rock hard by now.

His smirk grows, and his eyes start to cloud again. He shifts and straddles my hips, a sigh escaping our lips. He takes my hands, and threads his fingers through mine, pinning me down on the bed, and _God_ , the things he can do to me.

He bends down, and whispers, "You'll enjoy this. I promise, Bodt." Then, in a moment, he crashes his lips against mine, us drinking each other's muffled moans, and I lose myself in his aura all over again.

 

* * *

 

By the time Round Two was over, it struck 12 PM. It's a Saturday morning, and so Jean does not have to go to work. Thus, we decide to spend most of our day outside. We eat some breakfast, before leaving Jean's house for the cliff. I wore a white button-down shirt, with some jeans, while Jean wore a dark blue shirt over dark jeans, his sleeves pulled up till his elbows.

I had sold my house, as I hardly ever stayed there ever since Jean entered my life. It’s much more comfortable in his house, where he plays the piano for me whenever he feels like it – or at times he’d teach me how to play it; where we'd cook for each other whenever we could, or we would just lay on his couch for hours on end, and it was then that I understood what it meant for a person's arms to become a sanctuary for someone.

He was mine, after all.

We silently pass tall, green trees, and pale, almost identical houses. Jean revived all colors for me after I had gotten my sight, so it was not hard for me to decipher shades anymore. Children play noisily around the colorful swings in their lawns, bright flowers growing along the edges. The otherwise-dull pavement glowed under the sunlight, I notice. The scent of freshly-cut grass is thick in the air, and the sound of breathless laughter makes me smile.

I chance a glance at Jean, who's looking forward; he's driving intently, as his eyebrows scrunched at his forehead in utter concentration, but I notice something underneath it all...

It’s almost as if he's thinking of something. It's his habit to become unusually quiet whenever he's in a pensive mood. It did not suit him.

I nudge his arm, as I ask, "Hey, love. What's wrong?"

He looks at me, surprised, but then laughs, as he replies, " _Heh_ , nothing, nothing. I’m just thinking."

"Sure?"

He looks at me, before reaching for my hand. He squeezes my fingers within his warmly, as he reassures me, "Of course, love." He smiles - his large, toothy grin that I fall for every time.

I smile back, relieved to see him happy. But still, that moment still bugs me.

Nevertheless, by that time, we reach the cliff. Jean parks the car next to a tree, and we step outside.

The scent of nature always captures me whenever I step here; it’s so natural, so perfect. But the very next thing that captures me is the _view;_  with my sight, I had looked over this very cliff days ago, and had shamelessly shed a tear or two out of sheer happiness. I silently take in the whole scenery around me - the thick, green grass, dotted with delicate, white dandelions, and the rocky, moss-covered cliffs that lay beyond me; it never ceased to amaze me, like it did the first time.

I step ahead of Jean, jogging up to the edge. I look over the blue, sparkling sea that lay below the two gigantic cliffs that jutted out like fangs, cutting through the waves below. The Sun is high up in the sky, and it threw its rays on the glittering expanse. It shone like diamonds, with a tinge of blue. The sea spread far and wide, dotted with little islands, till it ended abruptly right at the edge. Standing up here, being able to trace the edge of the world with my finger... It makes me feel as if the world is mine. It makes me feel tall and powerful.

But then, seeing the sea lying beyond me, far and wide, continuing on even beyond where my eyes could not reach, it also makes me realize how huge the world is; and how small we really are.  _An odd paradox,_ I think to myself.

I contemplate the endless answers of this very paradox, as the cool, salty breeze runs over me, ruffling my clothes. I feel Jean's absence all of a sudden. I turn around, only to see him standing against the car, smiling at me quietly.

I arch an eyebrow, as I ask, "Uh, Jean?"

He shakes his head, laughing softly, as he replies, "Nothing, I just..." He sighs, and says, so softly the wind could have picked his speech away: "I just like watching you, being this happy."

I lose concentration for a moment, because of the simple fact that left his lips so effortlessly: he enjoys me being happy. If that does not make me the happiest - and the luckiest - person alive, I don't know what would.

I feel a weird, fluttery feeling bubbling inside of me, and I don't think it was just happiness.

Regardless, I hold out my right hand, waiting for him to approach me and wrap his fingers around mine, his presence next to mine - the way it was always meant to be.

He quietly straightens himself, and makes his way towards me. As his feet touch the dotted dandelions, the wind that blew along scatters the numerous seeds all at once; a white cloud of seeds flies, circling around Jean as the wind twisted and turned. He chuckles lightly, catching a handful of dandelions in his hands in mid-air. I could have stared at him like that - happy, smiling, peaceful - for as long as I could.

He takes my outstretched hand, wrapping his fingers around mine warmly, before wrapping his other arm around my waist, hugging me close to him. He stares at me, tipping his head back a little - he was an inch shorter than me, I had noticed - just silently running his eyes over my face. A few of the dandelion seeds are stuck in his hair, and the way his amber eyes glow under the sunshine, how closely he was looking... I could practically melt under that loving gaze. Its here that I deduce just how beautiful he is.

I kiss him softly, before placing my head on his, both of us enjoying the silence that ensued, moving to and fro like the waves below us. Sometimes, silent moments were the ones worth treasuring, more than words that would drift away our lips, getting lost within the folds of time.

I gaze at the cliffs and sea again; the white cloud of dandelion seeds had drifted away from us, and now floated far and far away, till all it became was just a speck across the intricately colorful canvas. The rays of sunshine that peeked behind thick clouds time to time illuminated everything that lay beyond, and for a second, I could have sworn I could see every color that ever existed, all in just one glance - the green hills, the blue sea, the white clouds, everything. And I couldn't help but think...

"God must be an artist." I say to no one in particular.

Jean catches my thought, though, and leans up to look at me: "Huh?"

I shake my head, as I repeat, "I said God must be an artist; why else would He create all these colors?"

Jean stays quiet for a while, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, before he smiled a little, quite amazed.

"Damn, Marco..." He says, wrapping his arms around my neck, "You're just something else."

I chuckle, nudging my nose against his, before kissing him again, and again, and again, and so easily I lose myself in his depths all over again.

 

* * *

 

After staying there for a little while longer - enjoying our own little world - till our stomachs grumbled. We made our way to the coffee shop where we officially hung together for the first time. The squeaky-voiced waitress takes our orders once more - she was a blonde, petite lady, with shining, gentle blue eyes, along with a sparkling smile, and her name-tag spelled "Christa". As she brought our sandwiches, we gobble them up. All the while, I notice Jean zoning out more than once while eating, his eyes on me, but not exactly looking.

I prod him on and on about something bothering him, but he wouldn't budge - and that made me worry even more.

Seeing my worry being evident, Jean reasons, "Love, its okay. I'm just thinking about the job, and all..." He ends almost thoughtfully, as he eats another mouthful of his sandwich. I try to shrug the thought away - his job can get difficult for him at times, so it must be reasonable. But still, a tinge of worry clings to me.

After our food, we thank the waitress, and make our towards the park. As the traffic stops for people to cross the road, Jean holds my hand and squeezes it. I peek at him, and see a little smile playing at his lips - it was here that they met for the first time, after all. It was here that our stars decided to cross, and stay tangled forever.

I look around the park as we enter; children play happily around bright swings, while their parents sat on benches, or set up their picnics. Jean and I make our way to the more secluded - more silent - place to sit and relax in. We make our way towards a green patch of grass, sloping down to meet the edge of a pond, the blue surface rippling slightly with the soft breeze that blows. A huge tree shades a bench, it's pink flowers scattered over the wooden surface.

I brush them away, making space for me and Jean, until I see him standing a few feet away from me, staring at me - again, in that pensive, worried way, that made me uncomfortable.

"Um, Jean, what-"

"I want to show you something."

He cut me off with that statement, and it makes me stare at him even more worriedly. I ask again, "Jean, are you sure you're okay-"

"Yes, I am fine, I just- I'll be back quick, I have to show you this thing"

He says his reasoning quickly, steps on his tip toes to kiss my cheek, before running in the opposite direction.

I just simply stare at his running figure, positively shocked; one minute he was perfectly fine, and the next minute he decides to show me something. But what? I should be feeling happy, or excited, at the least, but the way he'd zone out only makes me worry even more.

Deeming worrying as a useless option, I decide to wait. I sit on the bench, and stare at the pond in front of me, waiting. I pick a flower from next to me, and start tracing its smooth, pink petals to calm my nerves down. I chew at my lip, fretting again and again, wondering uselessly about all the possible outcomes - each being worse than the last.

It wasn't long before Jean came running back, his hands behind his back, as he stands in front of me. I stand immediately, asking him, "Jean, you don't seem fine at all-"

"Remember when you said ' _God must be an artist_ '?" he asks, in a very timid, yet soft voice.

My eye-brows raise at the sudden change of topic. I nod slowly in reply.

He visibly gets himself together, squaring his shoulders, before he says: "So, I wanted to show you something..."

He steps up in front of me, and lifts my right hand. Then he presses something cool against my palm, not leaving his eyes off of me once. I hold the little sphere in my hand, inspecting it.

It was crystal clear, with many edges cut at it's surface, like a diamond. But there were too many to count. I hold it between my forefinger and thumb, inspecting it closely. It was beautiful, but...

"This is my mom's crystal." Jean explains, answering my question beforehand. He continues, "She loved collecting precious things when she was young, and this was her most treasured item. See, let me show you."

He holds my hand - holding the crystal - and lifts it up to the sunlit sky. As soon as the crystal mirrored the position of the Sun, something amazing happens; all at once, every kind of color shoots from the crystal - red, blue, indigo, green - as if every color known to Man was held within the confines of those transparent, crystalline walls. They all scattered from the numerous faces of the crystal, spreading it's hues on our skin - funnily, my hand was now a shade of purple and red.

I laugh despite myself, clearly amazed; I twist and turn the crystal, and from every face, a different hue reflected, and all I'm doing is smiling like an idiot.

Jean explains further: "It scatters light in to all of it's colors, and my mom loved that. She loved that something so seemingly plain can do something so amazing. It made her think the same about people.

When you said that God must be an artist, this instantly came in my mind." He chuckles, looking at me, and says, "God _must_ be an artist, come to think of it. He could have kept the world black and white, and we'd still be better off. But God must have loved colors, to have made them. So I want you to have this, to prove it to yourself, and to remind you that... That anything simple can do anything amazing."

I gape at him like a fish, speechless; the crystal did not mean as much as his beautifully-structured words did. And he said it with such meaning, that I instantly believe in every single syllable he breathed. It is all too much - and my heart being a weak thing - I feel tears prickle at my eyes.

I sniff, and mumble, "But it's your mother's-"

"My mother is old enough to have forgotten she ever had it," he chuckles, before adding: "And besides, she had given it to me when I was small. So I want you to have it, Marco."

He folds my fingers around the crystal, gripping it firmly. I fear if I open my mouth I'll just fall in to a puddle of tears, so I just nod and stare at the crystal in my palm, throwing a pale shade of red across my palm. I smile at it.

As I glance up at Jean, I see him staring at me. Not pensively, this time. It was with something else... Something I could not exactly pin point.

Before I could ask, he speaks up: "Marco, the reason I was so lost and spacey today was because some things were on my mind, and fuck it all, I'm just gonna voice them out right now, or else I'll go crazy. I wanted this to be scripted, but fuck it."

He inhaled, and exhaled, calming himself. He backs up a few steps, wrapping his fingers in to fists, and proceeds:

"I still remember the first time I saw you; you were standing there, tall and patient, even when those assholes were making fun of you. But I saw something in you, just- just, just so different, I felt like I had to know you, I had to talk to you. You just stood out from the rest, from day one. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were something special.

Then I got to know you after some conversations, and _God_ , was I right. I found myself falling for you harder and harder, because you were smart, funny, kind and perfect. I've been around a lot of assholes, and knowing a person like you could exist, I fell in love with _life_. I was so thankful to have met you."

He smiles slightly, before continuing:

"And then we kissed, and _Marco_ , I still remember how you looked at the cliff. You looked so ecstatic and content, and just plain happy, and it made me want you even more - for me, and only me. I craved you fuckin' _greedily_ , I'll admit it."

Then, he does something that sucks the air right out of me: he _kneels_ down one knee, his eyes not leaving me once. I cover my mouth with my hand, but Jean continues:

"And now, Marco Bodt, I'll confess; I want you for me, and I want you to be mine forever and ever - I don't care how fucking cliche it sounds, but I want you. Because you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I'm willing to thank Fate and the stars and all that cosmic shit that made us cross each other's paths. I'll look past any of your flaws and your mistakes because I'll never give up on you - on us..."

He pats his jeans, before pulling out a black velvet box from behind him. As he opens it, tears start prickling my eyes. His eyes are glistening with tears of his own, as he says:

"I love you, Marco, and so after my poorly-constructed speech and horribly-cliched phrases, I ask: will you marry me?"

Tears are flooding down my cheeks as I stare at the ring in the box; it was a plain, silver band, glinting under the sunlight, and oh my God, Jean Kirschtein is proposing to me and I see him holding back tears too as he's awaiting my answer-

"Y-yes." I whisper, my voice shaky.

Jean's face breaks in to a huge grin - so wide it could have split his face - and he's letting tears run down his face, mirroring mine. He's still on his knee. He laughs, and sniffles, before reaching for my left hand, slipping the cool ring around my ring finger - the way a prince would do.

I don't inspect the ring on my hand, because I have enough time to do that on my own - with _him_. I choose to stare at his beaming face, both of us crying, both of us happy, both of us together.

The prospect of a ' _forever'_ makes me cry even harder; me and Jean, together. We were together all this long, but now we'll be married. We'll adopt children and we'll take them to school and we'll play with them and we might fight or fall in between, but knowing he's willing to put up with me makes me love him even more.

He stands up and wipes away my tears, and all I do is replace them with more tears. I clutch at his shirt and pull him in to my embrace, kissing him fiercely. Jean locks his arms around my neck, and pulls me deeper and deeper in to him, whispering soundless love in between us, punctuated with sighs and ' _I love you_ 's against each other's lips.

I'm sobbing, and I know he's sobbing too, and I hug him tighter against my chest, until the momentum catches us off-balance, and the next thing I know, we're sprawled across the grass, Jean under me.

I hold myself upright by my forearms, and all I can see is Jean - he's breathless with laughter, and his cheeks are colored a glowing pink, as tears cut across his cheeks, leaving stains, and his amber eyes glittered with fresh ones. The only thing that runs in my mind is how much I've fallen for him, and I say the first thing that comes in my mind:

"I'm desperately in love with you, Jean."

Jean stops laughing, and tears vanish from his eyes. He smiles a little, before pulling me in to him, kissing my lips softly. He didn't have to say it; that gentle gesture made me believe he meant the same for me.

After a while of staying sprawled in the grass, side-by-side, Jean grins. I give him a questioning look, to which he replies;

"So this means you're okay with the name, 'Marco Bodt _Kirschtein_?'" He waggles his eyebrows in the end to prove his point.

I laugh, rolling my eyes. I kiss his cheek, as I say, "We'll discuss those terms later." Jean laughs at that, and hugs me tightly, not letting me go.

We stay sprawled over the grass - now on our backs - till the Sun vanished behind the horizon, and the sky started getting dark, revealing the first few stars, and we spent out time staring at the changing sky, with our hands tangled tightly. As the sky grew a deep pink, I feel his finger tracing the ring in my left hand, and then I begin contemplating the prospect of ' _forever_ ' with Jean Kirschtein, and how happy I was to be a part of it.

 

* * *

 

[my tumblr ayy](http://captaink-irschtein.tumblr.com/)


	2. Our Little Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has finally arrived; the day when Jean and I would seal our star-crossed laths for real; the day when we will rejoice and celebrate the love that we share;  
> Today, Jean and I will get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! This is literally nothing, except a pile of tooth-rotting fluff. Just enjoy♥

_**Our Little Universe** _

 

_Today is the day._

_Finally, today is the day,_ I think, as I lay like a starfish over my bed.

Today is the day, that Jean and I will get married.

I muffle a squeal in a pillow next to me, my voice lined with nerves.

My hands get sweaty just thinking about it. God only knows if I'll even last at the altar.

I can't help myself; it is a huge day, for both Jean and me. It will be the day when we'll seal our destiny for real - together. The thought helps a smile grace my face - a much better notion, if compared to my anxiousness.

It had taken a few months more - after the proposal - to plan the wedding arrangements. Days had been spent going to the mall and other places, back and forth, to decide the overall theme, clothes and such; and nights had been spent deciding where would our wedding take place, who would be invited, and much more. A slightly peculiar thing, however, was how invested Jean's friends had made themselves in these preparations - to such an extent, that they had planned many things before they had even mentioned it; when we attempted to plan on an after-party, his friends all but defiantly stated that "they've got it covered." (It makes me think of what might have made them do such things. Maybe they were just that helpful - they were his friends, after all).Thus, those months had been hectic, time-consuming and tiring, until the day finally arrived. Today.

Jean would gather a sweat at his brow whenever he talked about our wedding - he had wanted it to be the most perfect day they'd ever have. He wanted it to be such a sparking, lively event that it would stay in our minds - and hearts - forever.

Little does he know that every moment spent with him makes my day. Each second passed with him is a second I treasure, a second I yearn for, keeping it safe in my memory.

But then, Jean had planned for us to stay apart from each other on the morning of the wedding day, by spending the night at different places - so that we'd meet each other first at the church. I all but simply denied it; we were getting married after all - why stay apart for the morning?

"It's not what you think, love," Jean had reasoned, as we had discussed it. "I want this wedding to be a really, _really_ great one, okay, and... I don't know, I just think, that if we see each other first - all dressed up - at the altar... I don't know - it would seem a little... special, you get me?"

It almost felt like a small desire of his, judging by the way he bit his lip in anticipation, waiting for my answer; I couldn't help but nod, agreeing to his suggestion - though with some reluctance.

Jean had reassured me more after that: "You don't have to worry," he had said, running his lips over my knuckles, "These guys are goofy as fuck, but are also amazing people. They'll take good care of you."

I had still been slightly hesitant to be kept apart from him for the morning, but the words that Jean had spoken next sent chills down my spine:

"Besides," he had purred, in his low, husky voice that made my heart beat erratically, "we will be together at our honeymoon too, hm? You still better wait for that."

Still thinking about it makes my cheeks burn. God, the things he does to me; it should be _illegal_ -

"Are you up, Marco?" I hear a manly voice call from outside.

I reply with a mellow " _yes_ " of my own. Removing the white pillow off my face, I sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair, while yawning. After rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I recall the words in my mind: today, I'll get married.

The words make me jittery with nerves and excitement all over again. I can't wait to get ready, to go there, stand at the altar, and wait for Jean, as he'd walk up the aisle...

I feel my whole face flush at the prospect of Jean donned in a sleek suit, with a little flower strapped to his breast-pocket. I can almost see him walking down the aisle, towards me slowly, with those loving, intense eyes. I can almost feel him take my hand, slowly slipping a ring over my finger...

I bury my face in my hands, squealing to myself like a teenage girl. I really shouldn't let this affect me this much, but I can't help it.

" _Marco_!" I hear a woman calling this time, her voice sharp and loud, "C'mon! Your breakfast's getting cold!"

After washing myself up, I make my way towards my breakfast. Jean had made me stay with two of his friends, married to each other - Sasha and Connie Springer, while he had stayed with two of his childhood friends - Eren and Armin. I never really had serious friends to begin with, so I had no choice.

Connie and Sasha were the more recent friends of his; they were " _balls of energy_ " as Jean had put it, but were good people. And just as he had predicted, they had proved to be amazingly helpful people; they had seen how anxious I felt to live in some strangers' house, and had instantly melted it all away. Soon, they had found a friend in me as well; we could fall into conversations easily, and it was not long before they had thought of me as a part of their humble home. I felt relieved.

I step outside my room, making my way towards their kitchen. Their house was small, but clean, with furniture set sparsely throughout the rooms. On the contrary, their walls were cluttered with pictures of all kinds - most of them being the couple's own photos, taken in almost every corner of the world. Though it feels alien to me - the stark white walls, covered with photos of their adventures with each other - it somehow radiates a humble feeling, making me comfortable any way. It all screamed ' _home_ '.

As I enter the kitchen, I notice that it was a mess, as compared to the rest of their house. And there, I see the two people - Connie and Sasha, busying themselves over the stoves.

Connie was a bald, energetic man, shorter than Sasha - who was an equally energetic woman (though she had a larger appetite). But yet, no two people made as much sense as they did; for some reason, they could complete each other's sentences, predict each other's thoughts, and knew of the other like the back of their hands.

Sasha hears me approaching, and turns her head. Her ponytail bobs as she enthusiastically greets me: "Alright, the groom is finally up!"

I visibly flush, to which she just throws her head back and laughs heartily.

"Sasha, leave the poor guy alone." Connie says, rolling his eyes while he nods at me, with a bright smile on his face. I nod back, smiling at the jest she throws about Connie being " _a lousy bore_ ". Their jesting continues as I help set the table, picking the clean, white plates, and placing them on the sturdy table.

Moments later, the pair set piles of steaming pancakes for the three, along with syrup and cream, to suit anyone's fancy. I delve into mine immediately, trying to keep my mind away from the pending anxiety of the day that is to come, instead busying it with these delicious pancakes.

Connie and Sasha begin eating as well, going over the day's plans as they did; they discuss many names who were taking part in the preparations - most names I couldn't recognize. Other times, they discuss certain things in which they would drop their voices into a whisper. I try not to let it bother me much, but it did however spark my anxiety a little.

As I swallow the last bits of pancakes, the other two were done with their plates too. Sasha decides to lean back comfortably, and belch loudly, giggling right after it. I can't control myself - I laugh as well. Connie just screws his face up in disgust at her. She all but pokes him, teasing him to no ends.

We share a few laughs and chit-chat over cups of coffee, pleasantly passing the time we have. After a while, Connie sighs. He places his empty cup down at the counter, and claps his hands together, as if he's thoroughly prepared for something. Then he declares, looking at me:

"So, you're ready?"

The anxiousness just blares in me even more, but I manage to smile, and nod - I had been waitimg for this day, after all.

* * *

After taking a shower, came the time for me to don my suit. For me, getting ready had been daunting and nerve-wracking; I knew nothing of tuxedos and how to wear them, and so it was after much, _much_ help from Connie that I was finally able to wear the damn thing the right way.

As I button-up my cuffs slowly, I realize that with every moment that passes, I'm closer to the event; I'm closer to the wedding, I'm closer to the altar, and to him-

My hands quiver with nerves again. I shake them, trying to toss them away - but all in vain; they just won't leave. The nerves just grow more and more, like an icy hand creeping up my neck, making me shiver unconditionally, and habitually.

I gulp dryly. I internally chide myself - to stop over-thinking everything - and instead busy my fumbling fingers by straightening my collars, that had been something I had done countless of times in just one minute. God, I am hopeless.

"Lookin' _sharp_ , Marco," I hear from behind me.

I turn around, to find Sasha leaning against the open door-frame, all dressed up. She looks beautiful, in a simple, white dress that flowed till her knees. Her chestnut hair is coiled elegantly into a bun, and her eyes look even brighter under the soft make-up she had done.

She must have seen me blush again, for she just giggles softly.

"God, Marco, just _breathe_ , or you'll spontaneously combust. You shouldn't feel this jittery."

"I - I-" I stutter, but I end up sighing in defeat.

She sighs back, as she walks up to me, her heels making a sharp _click-click-clicking_ noise, standing in front of me. She helps me tie my bow-tie right.

As she does so, she speaks quietly, "Though, I don't blame you. Who wouldn't be scared at their wedding day? I know _I_ was."

I nod, with a soft smile. I say next, "Yeah, but..." But my voice trails away on its own accord. I look away, suddenly embarrassed.

As she finishes tying the black bow around my neck, she moves to clip the small, white lily flower to my breast-pocket. While doing so, she asks, her voice slightly hushed, soothing:

"What's wrong, Marco?"

I can only sigh, as I try to reply, "I know I'm being silly, but... I just hope the day goes well. I'm just... I don't know- just afraid, for what could happen, y'know?"

Sasha nods knowingly, finishing off the flower. As soon as she finishes that, she dusts my shoulders lightly. She smiles - a cute, comforting smile - as she grips my shoulders tightly. She shakes me back and forth a little, as she says:

"Marco, you are getting _married_. Nothing could go wrong - frankly 'cause we got it covered!" The comment helps me laugh despite my bubbling anxiety, but then her soft tone drags me to my senses again.

"And," she continues, turning me around, so that I could look at myself in the tall-mirror. "You look stunning, to boot; just look at yourself!"

And I do.

The suit that I had bought is amazing, I have to say; the suit fits me perfectly and comfortably, the supple, black cloth fitting all the right places. The lapels were sleek, and the collars straight - and Sasha managed to tie a really neat bow-tie, I find to my liking. Though, in the reflection, my freckles stand stark against my pale complexion - the reason for my paleness being my damned nerves.

 _Even then_ , I think, _I do look nice_. I let a small, yet proud smile grace my lips.

She says more from behind me, "Besides, Jean will be there. If he's there, then I don't think you have to worry about anything." I can practically hear her smile around those words.

As soon as those words reach me, I feel my skin heat up at the prospect - Jean will be there. He will be there, next to me, at the altar. He will hold my hand, he will slip a ring in my finger, we'll promise to love each other, and then-

-and then we'll kiss.

My nerves disappear slowly, as feelings of love and affection dominate my being. The heat brings back color to my skin, so that I don't look as if I had just thrown up.

"Yeah..." I reply, this time with a huge smile on my face. I find myself strangely ready - ready for the wedding.

* * *

Though I internally feel ready for the wedding, my just leg won't stop shaking with jittery nerves. I have to keep a hand over my left knee, just to make it sit still - and to stop the car from vibrating too much, as Sasha had complained.

We had left the house around noon. Connie drives the car, and Sasha sits as shot-gun, leaving me seated behind them. The drive to the church feels like a trip to the end of the world - equally nerve-wracking and troubling. I don't even know whether minutes have passed by or mere hours - time doesn't even feel the same for me.

The tall, thick trees loom over us as we make our way deeper into the city, the green leaves bright against the Sun. I look outside the window, and let this scenery calm me down; to allow nature around me to dissolve these shaky nerves from my bones, soothing me. I inhale, and exhale slowly, smoothly, counting them down, to calm myself. I reassure myself throughout the car-ride, thinking that Jean would be there, right? Jean will be there, with me. That should give me some semblance of confidence.

As we take the last turn around the corner, I see the tall, bricked walls of the local church coming nearer and nearer, my heart hammering against my chest faster and faster with every mile we cover. I grip my knee tightly, knuckles gone stark-white against the dark fabric of my dress pants. I bite into my lips, worrying them till I could have sworn to faintly taste blood.

As we near it, I see some cars parked up the lane - indicating that most of the invited guests have arrived. Jean had managed to invite his mother (it was an important day, after all) and most of his new friends that he had made at his new job, too. I had lost my parents a long time ago, and I never had siblings, or serious friends. But I had, however, managed to invite a few cousins of mine, too - who happened to be at Trost, in those weeks. At least there would be familiar faces amongst the unfamiliar ones, I reassure myself, as my eyes land on their cars.

The car halts into an empty space, a few paces away from the church. Connie and Sasha step outside, while I first have to control my shallow breathing. The grip on my knee is still hard, but I can't feel it; my mind is too preoccupied with what ifs and what abouts that cloud everything else.

The door to my right opens suddenly, disrupting my state of reverie, and I turn to see Connie, squatting in front of me. He instantly notices the anxiousness frozen in my bones - I can tell by the shift of his light eyes.

He leans in and grabs my upper arm. He grips it tightly, as he says, "It will all go great, Marco. Be happy; you're getting married."

Those soft words help melt away the frozen anxiety in my joints. I blink a few times, and I feel heat flush under my skin. Of course: I am getting married. What am I afraid of?

I'm getting married, to Jean.

Why am I afraid?

This time, when I step outside the car, my legs no longer shake.

* * *

"Alright, just in time!" I hear a blonde man shorter than me say, from somewhere behind me - it's Armin, I note, as I turn around. Jean had introduced me to him once; an intelligent man he was, with whom I could talk for hours on ends, it had seemed.

Sasha and I were in a separate room within the church, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Upon entering the vast church, I tried to sneakily steal a peak at Jean somewhere, but his friends had all but pushed me and Sasha in to that lone room, adament to keep us from seeing each other.

Now Armin had entered as well, to check in on us. He had worn a smart suit, with a white tie, and smiled happily at us. He fed us in with the news outside; everyone had arrived, and Eren and Connie had gone to guide them all to their seats in the church. It was only a few moments before the ceremony would begin, he had said.

Seeing us ready, Armin looks at his wrist-watch. His blue eyes blow wide as he exclaims, "It's time! You guys are on cue in three minutes!" With that, he turns around and scurries away.

Just three minutes.

We have waited for this day since we professed our love for each other, and now that day has arrived.

I look at the mirror in front of me again, eyeing my reflection for any faults, or need for some tweaking, or something to keep my mind busy. (I pat my hair just for safe measure anyway.)

Sasha steps behind me, and taps my shoulder. I turn, and then I hear those dreaded, yet most anticipated words:

"Let's go."

* * *

Sasha grips my right arm, that was looped around her left one. The tight grip gives me some semblance of hope; it helps me floor myself on to the present - on to _now_.

She leads me out the room calmly, stopping right at the end of the altar. Then everyone turns around and stares at the pair of us. As soon as they do, all of my once-forgotten feelings of nervousness rush straight at me like a tidal wave, until I can feel the unease settling in my body again. The red carpeted aisle ends a good amount of steps ahead of us, I note to my disappointment. At the end, is where I can see a wrinkled priest, waiting silently.

Then I hear a piano being played. With that, Sasha leads me up the aisle, with slow steps, synchronizing us with the faint musical notes playing in the distance. I gulp dryly.

Though there weren't many people to begin with - just under twenty people - I can still feel their eyes boring holes into me, and it feels weird. Being eyed this way is something that still makes my skin crawl with discomfort. But then my eyes land on to my left side. I see my cousins, looking up at me with huge grins on their faces, radiating pride. One even shoots me a thumbs-up. The familiarity of it gives me happiness, it gives me confidence. They seem happy - for me, I realize. And so, I smile brightly for them, and stay that way.

Halfway up the aisle, I stop quivering. I stop worrying about the eyes staring at me, and instead I fix my gaze upon the priest - the old, wrinkly man looking at me with a soft smile. I even dare to tilt my chin up, defiantly, and with confidence.

It had felt like forever, but soon I find myself standing to the left side of the altar. As Sasha stations herself to my far left, my eyes drag themselves on the paintings covering the huge walls around me - angels floated over holy figures, guarding the pure souls with their might. Some had holy men, garbed in robes, that preached their word to the common people, standing below their feet. They all had been colored brilliantly, with bright hues that clashed and blended with each other, creating beautiful pieces of abstract art.

My gaze could have stayed there for longer, but then my eyes land on something much, much special, right in front of me - something I find more awe-inspiring than the art around me.

Right down the aisle, I see _Jean_.

His arm is looped around another lady's - she looks to be from an Asian origin, with pale skin and dark eyes. She must be Mikasa, who Jean had described as a beautiful, yet intense woman. Though her intensity was quite evident from the way she carried herself, a smile still played softly around her lips, giving away a rather opposite image.

But I can't stop staring at _Jean_.

As he walks up the aisle, with slow, sure steps, I can see just how splendid he looks in his tux; the black color suits him perfectly, his waist and shoulders well defined. His brassy hair stands stark against his dark clothes. They had been combed to one side, but I could still see how some of his hair refused to stay put (I stifle a giggle at that sight). He rocks a red bow-tie, contrasting with mine, and I see a little lily-flower over his breast-pocket too - just the way I had imagined it.

By the time I remember how to breathe, Jean had stepped next to me, not leaving his eyes off of me once. Even I hadn't taken that chance.

The priest had begun reciting his words, to which I pay only little attention - it feels as if Jean has trapped me in his own sharp, amber gaze, and I don't want to leave it: ever.

The priest then clears his throat, and looks at me first. He asks, "Do you, Marco Bodt, take Jean Kirschtein to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do," I say, my voice gone a little shaky with the emotional commitment those words carried.

"Do you, Jean Kirschtein, take Marco Bodt to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do," Jean says, his voice merely a whisper - but a whisper that I had heard perfectly.

My heart-beat roars in my ears as I hear the priest order us to exchange our rings. I take mine from Sasha, and hold Jean's left hand. It feels slightly clammy - and I have to hide a cheeky smile, realizing that Jean must be feeling just as anxious as I had for this wedding. I grip his hand, and slip the ring over his finger delicately. I see an unshed wetness to Jean's eyes, that make mine watery too.

Then Jean takes his ring from Mikasa, and slips the ring over my finger, gripping my left hand tightly. This time, he stares with a faint smile that graces his lips, radiating pure, pure happiness. God, I have never felt so content; Jean is standing right in front of me, slipping a ring over my finger; we are sharing our wedding vows, making it official - could it get any better?

Then the priest commands us to hold each other's hands. And so we do.

(I grip Jean's hands in mine, and he squeezes mine back. This time the tears are welling up in both our eyes.)

The priest urges us to repeat his words together, and so we do:

" _With this ring, I give you my promise that from this day forward, you shall not walk alone. I have no greater gift to give. May my heart be your shelter, and my arms be your home_."

Halfways through the vows, and both of us are crying openly. Tears spill down Jean's eyes continuously, and I can feel the wetness cling to my skin too, mirroring his. We grip each other's hands impossibly tighter, as we continue onwards:

" _May we walk together through all things. May you feel deeply loved, for indeed you are. May you always see the innocence in my eyes. May we feel this joy forever._ "

Our voices quiver when we echo the word " _forever_ " together. Forever, I promise myself.

Forever, I will be with Jean. Forever, I will love him, and forever, I will take care of him. Come Hell or high water, nothing - and I mean nothing - will make me give Jean Kirschtein up.

I love him, I love him so much; _forever_.

And the way Jean looks up at me, through a watery smile, I know; I just _know_ , that Jean means the exact same for me:

He loves me, and I love him. Forever.

"You may now kiss." the priest concludes.

With that, we both sob happily, as we finally lean in. I hold Jean close by his waist, and he hold my face in his delicate hands. Our noses brush against each other as we get closer, and closer. With a slight tilt of the head, our lips meet.

This kiss wasn't fireworks playing in my stomach; this wasn't fierce, this wasn't a kiss lined with burning passion. It wasn't a hard kiss that seared my insides.

This kiss feels _magical_.

This is soft, it is slow, and it is loving. I can feel Jean's sigh grow shaky as I kiss his upper lip softly. Jean tilts his face, holding my jaw, and lines our lips just right, our lips moving slowly, and soothingly against each other, like a perfectly orchestrated act. I can feel the cool tears on his cheeks - as well as mine, but we couldn't care less. With his stuttering breath, with his shaky fingers tracing my jaw blindly, and with the way he presses just a little closer, I know he means his love for me. We can almost feel each other whisper the word "forever" silently against each other's lips, like a promise.

We break apart slowly, wanting to look at each other, but Jean hasn't opened his eyes yet. I run my thumbs over his cheeks, wiping his sticky tears away. Then, he opens his eyes, and I see his bright, beautiful, golden eyes up close - they are filled with an intense sort of love, a love his being burned with, for me. He sighs happily, as he rests his forehead against mine, and I feel a huge smile split my face in to two;

We are finally _married_.

As soon as we pull apart, the guests start clapping, and some of Jean's friends hoot loudly. Jean turns and looks around the room, and laughs - a brilliant, amazing laugh; the same laugh I had fallen for ages ago. I find myself giddily laughing along too.

* * *

 

The time after felt like it had gone by in mere minutes.

We had been pulled down from the altar, and were made to greet the guests. All of them had congratulated us, and wished us good luck for the future - all to which we had replied with humble gestures and comments. I had met up with my cousins too; Maria, Mark, Isaac, John and Sarah were the ones who had shown up - all of them having dark hair like me. Maria had even brought her husband, and two of her small children with her, and Isaac brought his little child along with his wife as well - the little girl, with freckles like mine, had even congratulated us in her adorable voice.

I had also gotten the chance to meet Jean's mother. He had escorted her to me with an arm looped around her's. She was an old, yet kind woman, who looked well in her white dress. She had gushed over how adorable we looked together, and how she wished us good luck. Most importantly, she had advised me to take good care of her ' _Jeanbo_ ', to which he only rolled his eyes.

Many of Jean's friend patted him on the back, congratulating him aggressively; a big, burly man - named Reiner, with his blonde hair combed back - had ruffled Jean's hair so much, he looked like a porcupine right after. We all shared hearty laughs during that.

After we met up with more friends and family, we make our way outside the church. The Sun shines brightly from underneath heavy clouds, shrouding us in warm rays of sunlight. As a soft breeze blows, the trees sigh as well, moving to and fro with the wind, making them seem alive. As I inhale the fresh air, I feel Jean envelope his hand in my left one, gripping it tightly. I squeeze back, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He giggles softly at that, leaning in me more.

Then, I hear someone burst this little bubble of ours:

"Listen up, you lovers!"

It was Eren who said that. Jean rolls his eyes at that comment, to which Eren just laughs. He stands at the archway that leads to the front of the church, a few feet away from us.

He stands there, donned in a well-tailored, traditional black suit-and-tie. His green eyes glitter with humour, even from this distance, as he cups his hands around his mouth, and continues:

"Since our two little lovebirds have just made it official, we have planned a little surprise for them." My eyebrows raise at their own accord, out of shock. A _surprise_?

Eren continues on, "We worked really hard for this, so we hope you guys will enjoy it! Follow Reiner's _obnoxiously_ -bright car-"

"I heard that," mutters Reiner from behind him, as he stands next to his really, _really_ bright yellow car.

"-And you will find out for yourselves. Guests are allowed as much as the grooms are." He claps his hands, and then Reiner shouts:

"Let's go, then!"

* * *

Unfortunately, Maria had to leave later (her children had been tired), so that left my remaining cousins, and Jean's friends - as well as mother - who'd be able to witness this " _surprise_ ".

Eren had insisted us to follow them last of all - which left me and Jean even more confused than before. As the few guests started to leave, Jean had muttered to me:

"The last time they planned a ' _surprise_ ' for me, my hair had stayed blue for a week." I stifle a giggle underneath my fist, to which he just rolls his eyes.

Finally, it was our time to leave. We follow the car right in front of us (which happened to be Sasha's and Connie's car). Thankfully, Jean had brought his car along, and together, we follow our friends, leading us to this surprise.

What could it possibly be? I think over and over. The route we are following is too complex to understand - and that makes me even more confused. I hope that the car would stop somewhere, but no; the car in front of us just takes more turns, and covers more distance than either of us had anticipated.

As time passes on, I feel those jittery feelings all over again - just cut to the chase; what is this surprise?

My knee must have started bouncing on its own, for I feel Jean's hand fell over it - stopping it. I just flush in embarrassment, to which Jean just laughs.

"Don't sweat it, Marco," says he, "Whatever they've planned, it must be worthwhile, yeah?"

He glances at me, and I catch his amber eyes again. Out of love, I lean in to kiss his cheek. He just giggles, in that adorable way he does, when he feels sheepishly embarrassed.

Half an hour has passed, and still we keep on moving. The sky had begun to darken, turning into a soft, royal blue, tinged with purple. I look outside the window, to find ourselves outside the vicinity of the city. The dense networks of roads had thinned into just one - the one we were riding on. This route was sort of... _Familiar_...

I turn to glance at Jean, and he looks at me too, one eyebrow raised. He also feels it; could this place be...?

Abruptly, Connie's car takes a sharp turn to the left. We follow, making our way through the dense, dark trees that border the rough track.

Jean smiles at me, and I smile back, knowingly. _This place..._

Finally, we stop our car where the track had ended abruptly. There, I see other cars stopped around as well. We step outside, and together, we move forward. After walking a few yards ahead, dodging tall trees, we stop-

-To see a splendid celebration, happening at the cliff. _Our cliff._

I cover my mouth with my hand in surprise - how had they known...?

White, round tables stand sparsely over the dandelion-covered floor, while one rectangular table had been laden with food and champagne. The trees edging the celebration light up with fairy lights within its leaves, twinkling brightly against the dimming sky. I even see a grand piano sitting in the middle of all the tables. It looks so simple, yet amazingly elegant. I am at a loss of words.

I hear Jean gasp in surprise, as we see all the guests standing there amongst the celebration, waiting for us.

We hold each other's hands subconsciously, and make our way toward our friends and families.

* * *

 

As we had stepped closer, our eyes landed on the splendid four-tier cake, that sat on the vacant table amongst the food. It was shrouded in white-icing, with little white flowers bordering the round inner-edges, from where the layers began. It even had two little men, dressed in tuxedos on the top - representing us. It had looked so gorgeous - all of it did. We couldn't thank our friends enough for this surprise.

We had begun with the food straight away (since Sasha and Reiner had equally urged to do so). We were given our own table, nearest to the piano there. The food had been excellent; we enjoyed every morsel we tasted. By the time we were done with all three courses, I had seen Armin stand, and clap his hands to gather everyone's attention.

He says, "Since most of us have known our lucky pair for a long time, we would like to share a few words with them, to let them know exactly how happy we are for them!"

First, Eren and Armin are the ones to come up. They stand next to the piano, and share their feelings with us all; they tell us how they had known Jean since their childhood days, and how he was always a good friend to them. Eren even recounts how Jean would get in to trouble in school, but he was always the one to save his ass back then. Jean had laughed loudly at that, giving him a big thumbs-up.

"But folks," Eren continues, with a smile, "I have never seen Jean this happy, ever. I'm glad to know that he's happy - and that he's happy with a great guy, like Marco. On behalf of all our friends, we wish you guys to stay this way, for the long haul!"

Everyone had clapped at that. Jean had clapped the loudest - he had stood up and hugged the two of his friends tightly. When Jean returned, I saw his cheeks flush with emotions. I hold his hand even tighter then.

Like that more of our loved-ones had stepped up and shared their stories - even my cousins came up and wished us well; Isaac had said:

"Marco had always been a positive man, even when he hadn't been able to see. But never have I seen him this content with anyone. It gives me happiness to know Marco is a fulfilled person - and so I wish you two the best of luck!"

This time I had stood and hugged him tightly. Isaac had just patted my back hard, hugging me just as fiercely.

Later, Jean's mother had stood and given her speech too. Though her voice was faint, everyone could hear her well:

"A son's marriage gives every mother happiness, we all know that. But... But my Jeanbo had always struggled with finding something he truly loved, ever since he was a little boy..." Her voice had trembled with emotions when she continued, and I could see a few tears glisten against her pale, wrinkled face.

"And it gives me more happiness - more than I could imagine," she had said, "to finally see Jean love someone so fiercely. It had always been my dream, and- and I'm forever grateful to the man who makes him feel that way." She had started sobbing by the time she finished her speech.

Jean had ran to her and hugged her tight. His mother's sobs of happiness resonated through the silence of the evening, and I could also hear his silent sniffles too. When he had returned, I saw wetness cling to his cheeks too. Before I'd start crying, I quickly wiped his tears away with my thumb. He had held my hand close to his face, and kissed my palm lovingly. We didn't let go of each other since.

Like that, cousins and friends and loved ones came and went, sharing little stories with us - some made us laugh, some made us cry, but all of them made me happy. It feels fulfilling to know that some people love you, and care enough for you.

Later, Sasha stands up and bellows from her seat, "It's your turn, Jean!"

Jean's eyes grow wide as he realises that he has to talk, without planning anything. But I give his hand a light squeeze, giving him a boost of confidence. With that, he nods, and stands up. He walks towards the piano, his shoulders slightly hunched, I notice. As he squares his shoulders, I lean over the table, eager to hear him speak.

With a little sigh, he begins:

"Well, I don't really know what to say, 'cause words won't be able to describe how I exactly feel for this person. But I'll- I'll try to make it... simple.

"Marco is... He is unbelievable," he starts, "Though his early condition had made him feel insecure, yet he stood out the most for me. He was smart, kind, and just plain amazing. As soon as he entered my life, I just knew he was the one - I knew that... That he had to be mine." I hear little giggles from amongst his friends, but its all mute for me. He bows his head, as he says, "M-More words will never be able to describe the... the magnitude at which I love this man."

My breath has left me completely by the time he lifts his head to look in to my eyes, and ends his speech:

"All I can say, is that I love Marco Bodt so much. We may fight, we may fall along the way, but Marco, I just hope we'll always find each other in the end. I hope we'll always be together; forever."

Even in the dark, I can see unshed tears in his eyes, striking bright under the fairy lights - and God, I can feel the same dampness in my eyes.

Without warning, I stand up. I have to speak up - I just have to.

Jean doesn't move, but I do. My footsteps are slow, but measured. Without even thinking twice, I begin:

"Um, my words may sound strange, but I really can't seem to care," I shrug, and I hear a few chuckles around me. Jean shoves his hands in his pockets when he sees me, just looking at me. A soft, cool breeze runs over us, ruffling his hair, and it gives me confidence.

I continue, "It's gonna be hard to explain how exactly I fell for him, but... When I had b-been blind... it- it would take quite a long time for me to recognize people's voices. But... Jean's voice was the only voice that I was able to remember from the first moment."

Jean's eyes still for a moment at those words, in surprise. He blinks once, but I continue:

"Since then, I must have fallen for him, to have ended up with him this way, in such turns of events..." I smile around those words, as they leave my lips.

Jean smiles faintly at me as well. Stepping a few steps ahead, I suck in his happiness, letting it fuel me to say more:

"Jean Kirschtein understands me. He knows when I feel upset, he knows when I feel happy, he just knows _me_. And no one had ever taken the time to... To hold on to me, to take care of me. But Jean did. He always did, since day one."

By the time I near him more, tears have started falling down his cheeks. I think a few trickle down mine too - I can't tell.

I stop in front of him, as I say, "You held on to me, Jean, and that's why I love you. I also hope we'll love each other forever. That's a promise I'm willing to keep: a promise of being with each other, caring for each other, and loving each other - forever. If you're willing to, then..." I shrug, as I complete: "Then so am I."

The last few words leave my lips as a whisper. Jean doesn't even wait - he runs to me and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me in to a fierce kiss. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tight, kissing him back just as fiercely. I can taste the promise lingering around his lips along with the tears and I take it all in, letting it inflate me with love and happiness at the realization: he is willing, he is willing to love me.

We sob against each other's lips happily. People around us are cheering, most of them hooting and whistling, but none of us could come to care. Only after what felt like forever, do we pull apart slowly. We open our eyes, and grin at each other, like fools drunk on love.

As the guests help themselves to another serving of champagne, the constant chatter of people echoes through the dark, starry night. The only source of light that remains are the fairy lights around us - everything else had fallen dark. I turn to my right, and slowly make my way to the edge of the cliff, alone.

The chatter dims peacefully behind me as I near the edge. Looking down, I see the sea, that rolls farther and farther away, quiet and peaceful, a few stars reflecting over the crystal clear surface. As my gaze lingers there longer, I hear a faint sound - that of a piano.

I turn around, to see Jean sitting at the piano, and testing a few notes. Smiling, I make my way towards him now, shoving my hands down my pockets. He had always looked peaceful and content, whenever he'd play the piano. He had a sense of familiarity with the soft high and low notes a piano carries - and seeing him enjoy it elates me even higher.

Jean presses a few more notes, until they string together, to turn into fluent music. It is soft, it is subtle, and most of all, I find myself remembering this tune - it...

\- It was the same song Jean had made me play, the first time he showed me his piano. It was the song we played, after which I had confessed to him, that I loved him.

This song was so special for us, it's a wonder he remembers.

But then, I recall, as I smile to myself: _he has always known._ All this while, he always knew.

By that time, everyone had gone silent, listening to Jean's peaceful music. The familiar highs and lows of that beautiful song was all that echoed across the cliff, out into the rolling sea beyond. I sit beside his right side, looking at how his hands expertly press the right notes at the right time.

Like that, I sway next to him, listening to those amazingly orchestrated notes. I absorb them all, and let the loving memories flood my mind too. It was so beautiful - _he_ was so beautiful.

When the high notes resonate the loudest, I rest my head against his shoulder softly. Those sharp yet elegant notes are the ones I love the most, for it was then that I had known - that I loved him, and that I wanted him.

As the music slowly echoes to a halt, I feel Jean kiss the crown of my head lovingly, burying his head in my hair. I close my eyes to the subtle feeling.

Soon, I feel him grip my hand again. I look at him, to see him smiling at me softly. He stands up, and drags me on my feet too. Armin replaces his place, and begins playing a different, yet softer tune, to fill the silent night once more.

Jean guides me right in the middle of the cliff. He places my hands around his waist, and then twines his around my neck. By that time, I had caught his drift. As we press our foreheads together, we start swaying in time with Armin's music, letting it move us along with it, together.

Words can't describe how I had felt then - how happy, how ecstatic, how blessed, how content, and how _loved_ I had felt, with Jean near me like that. I can't bring myself to describe it well, but I can say this much - we felt as if we were one:

We had breathed the same air, we shared the same heat, and we loved each other together fiercely. In that tiny little moment the Universe had offered us, we had felt as one whole connected being, as if we had manifested a tiny, yet _vast_ universe within ourselves for that one moment, all on our own - a universe made solely for us, and our love to exist in. As the tips of our fingers would brush against the other, I could feel tiny stars tingling and bursting under our skin boldly. It made me feel whole, made me feel brave and loved - and it was then that I understood what it felt like to feel infinite. We had felt _infinite_.

Others soon joined in, and we all danced the night away; I offered to dance with Jean's mother, and had thoroughly ' _impressed_ ' her, as she had put it (Jean had laughed happily at the sight). On the other hand, Jean had tried dancing with my cousin, Isaac's little child, swinging her around. We all had laughed and enjoyed the time we spent with each other, making it last longer than it should have. We all were so happy.

Recalling this day now, I believe the Universe had reserved that day for us - for Jean and I. It feels as if the Universe had paused itself, for us to commemorate our wedding. Our wedding day was the day I had realised just how beautiful our intricately-woven paths really are - it was then that we realised how much we really love each other.

The Universe had given us that tiny, yet proud moment from within its intricately woven folds of Time - solely for Jean and I to enjoin and celebrate our love for each other:

And that, we did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't i tell ya c':  
> Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please do read and review - I love hearing from you guys!♥ If you wanna ask something or just witness my skills at being a nerd, follow me on tumblr -> captaink-irschtein is the name c:  
> Until next time! Bye bye!


	3. Yours (Forever)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's to all the times we spent in the dark; here's to the day we met, in a twist of events, on that fortunate road; here's to the countless kisses we shared, and countless more we shall share. Here's to our love. Here's to us; Jean Kirschtein and I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this 11K worded pile of fluff and feels with some smut. Not even kidding like dude i got diabetes just writing this orz JUST ENJOY MY LOVELIES!

_**Yours (Forever)** _

 

"Are we there now?"

"No, not yet!"

"Jean, you said that like half an hour ago-"

"Marco, darling, this time, I'm not kidding, I swear, we're nearly _there_ -"

I all but groan, and stop dead in my tracks. I stand firm, and as I cross my arms, I _humph_ , this time angrily; as childish as it seems, I have had _enough_. I cannot see - thanks to Jean's blindfold - and I can feel a dull pain in my legs from walking around all this time, and still not reaching this much-anticipated _"surprise"_.

"What the- _c'mon_ Marco," Jean says from behind me, "I promise it's right around the corner, all you have to do- is- _just_ \- move- _fuck_ -"

Those are the sounds of Jean's spindly arms struggling to push me forward forcefully; I feel his warm hands on my shoulder, using all their might just to make me stumble ahead. Funnily, I can almost imagine him digging his feet into the ground, even grunting while doing it. His futile attempts make me laugh anyway; as much as I feel frustrated, I don't stop the tiny giggle escaping my lips.

I cough, and speak next, with a lilt of stubbornness: "Jean, I've been walking all this time aimlessly and still we aren't there. I'm getting tired already."

"Darling," he pouts - I can practically _hear_ his pout. "I don't mean to be rude but this is just childish. C'mon, we're almost there - see it for yourself!"

Hearing him like that just makes me want to continue the teasing - I don't think he notices it, anyway. I lift my nose in the air, and _humph_ again. I muffle another chuckle when I feel him trying to heave me, trying to push me with his whole back into it.

"Come on, Marco! Connie talked about it a lot, and by the way he described it, it is practically Paradise - you can't miss it!"

That is true; a week after our wedding, he had practically barged in our house, and kept on talking about this place - how it had a cottage you could rent for as many days as you want, with a whole strip of clean beach only for you. And its utter peace and beauty was something the mind could just not perceive, Connie had reasoned. The fliers he'd shone did show something equally promising; a homely cottage, beside a huge expanse of sand and then water beyond. I had wanted to look at it more closely- but Jean had snatched it from my hand immediately.

I remember asking him about it, but all he said was, "No, I want us to see it all as a surprise. I won't let petty fliers ruin it!"

I had rolled my eyes at that, and so did Connie, but no one had complained; when Jean was committed to do something, he'd do it even if the world was to end. And so, I was practically banned from every flier of " _The Maria Resort_ ". (More than once I had tried to peek at it sneakily, but Jean had an instinct like a hawk - immediately, he'd slap my hand away before I'd see anything else.)

And since then, I had accepted my Fate; I had to find out at my own pace, it seemed. And so, after two weeks of preparations, we set forth for this resort. It was situated at the edge of Trost, so it was a day's ride. And so, like that, we left in the morning. We drove non-stop, and as the sky grew darker, we reached its entrance. But at that point, came Jean's sudden urge for me to wear a blindfold, and wait for the surprise. I won't lie, the prospect of a surprise always fascinates me, and never fails to send jolts of anticipation and excitement run through me, like a toddler getting gifts on Christmas. But even so, I found the darkness slightly uncomfortable, and I felt weary. (Plus; teasing Jean is really, _really_ entertaining).

"Okay," I surrender, after a long pause, "But at least take the blindfold off!"

" _Marcooo_ ," he whines, "I want you to never ever forget this. And I want it to really surprise you - and so you won't take it off!"

" _Jean_ -"

He shifts around me, and cuts me off with a kiss. It's a quick one, but it certainly doesn't fail to wipe out the trail of speech I had wanted to say - Jean is just like that; every word he says sounds like a sweet melody, every touch of his sends electric chills creeping under my skin, and every kiss of his makes me feel light, as if I'm floating - and it makes me feel so happy, and loved.

Just as I start returning the kiss, Jean pulls back. Even in the dark, I can feel his smug smirk - _that little_ -

"Marco, I'm not kidding. It is here. Do you hear that?" Once he whispers that, he falls silent. I strain my ears, trying to catch whatever he hears. And then- and then I hear it: mingled within the soft breeze blowing over us, I can hear something underneath it - it's denser, and yet it's soft; it's calm, yet it's demanding. Above all, it's _soothing_ ; it's like a distant, rumbling hum, making my eyes droop heavily with sleep. With that, I taste a faint saltiness in the air, too. It was not nearly like that at all, in Trost.

This time, Jean takes my hand, and slowly leads me on. I follow him again, my mind too fixed on that soft, subtle melody floating over the air, filling the silence comfortably. The distant hum turns louder with each step I take, until it all but turns into a roar - but even still, it isn't noisy. The salty air grows thicker, until all I can feel, taste, hear, is nothing but the constant hum of nature, among prominent sounds of swishing and crashing, resonating everywhere around me.

Soon, Jean stops. He leaves my hand for just one second, and I hear him talking to someone in hushed voices. But all I can hear is that peaceful, roaring sound, _calling_ for me-

Then, I feel his hand in mine again. With one tight squeeze, he steps behind me. I feel his hands tugging at my blindfold. I bite my lip: _it's time!_

"Here you go, Marco," he says, his voice a soft, loving whisper.

Feeling the tight grip of the blindfold loosen a little, I eagerly open my eyes. After blinking a few times, the blurriness goes away. And then I see.

It's dark, but I can still see everything; just a few feet ahead of me, there is nothing but light brown sand, stretching on far and wide towards either of my sides. I lift my eyes a little more, and then I see - I see nothing but a huge, dark expanse of water, starting right ahead of the sand. There is _so_ much water, I cannot stop my jaw from falling open; the fliers clearly didn't capture everything. Within the dark waters, I see plumes of white foaming over the top, as one massive wave crashes into the other, like a brutal battle. Each wave creeps up the sand, and then falls back. Then it creeps up again, and retreats. Up, and then back. The soft sway of the waves itself is so calming, despite the waves roaring with each crash. It doesn't fail to try to lull me deeper into my weariness. The sea continues beyond, and doesn't even seem to end anywhere; its deep, its dark, its blue, and yet - yet, it's beautiful. Those perilous waves almost seemed chaotically beautiful, within the folds of night. I can't suppress the sigh escaping my lips, just marveling at its beauty.

I turn back, and look at Jean. He isn't looking at the sea beyond us. I realize that he didn't look at the sea at all; he is looking at me. He is looking at me all this time, with a soft smile, and shining amber eyes.

I reach for his hand mindlessly, and before I can even think, I feel his warm grasp in mine - the way it's always meant to be. I trace the cold, silver band around his ring finger, and suppress a grin. That little gesture spoke everything I wanted to say - " _thank you_ ", and something a little more than that.

As we are escorted to our cottage, I don't leave his hand. As we go over the details of our one-week-long stay with the manager, I still don't leave his hand. When we enter our little cottage, only then do I leave his grip, instead looking around our little home; it has dark, wooden walls, with a wooden floor to boot. A kitchen is attached to our little living room, along with a coffee table paired with a brown sofa. And in a separate room, I see our bedroom; one incredibly comfy-looking, fluffy white bed, with side-tables at both its ends. The household is small, but it's functional. It's homely.

Throwing our luggage on the sofa, we look at each other. He is smiling, and so am I. If I feel so delighted on the first day, I can only imagine our whole stay here. Seeing him in front of me, radiating pure happiness and content the way he did - a giggle rips through me, breaking the silence. Jean returns it, and we wrap each other in a hug, his arms around my neck, mine around his waist. I feel his nose tickling my neck as he sighs peacefully, and I breathe out a sigh as well, digging my face into his soft hair.

"Thank you, Jean," I say.

"You're welcome, love. It's-" he pauses, and then whispers, "It's all for you - Everything." Those simple words of his don't fail to make me blush; instead, I hug him tighter, kissing the crown of his head repeatedly. Everything he did was for me. Everything he did truly was for me – he always reassured that to me, and I love him for it.

 _Have I ever done this much for him?_ A voice whispers in my mind. I abandon that anxious trail of thought right away, busying myself in Jean’s existence – in my own arms.

When we pull apart, I can see how hooded his eyes are with sleep. I kiss him once, twice, and then once more. He hums against each one, growing sleepy with each peck I plant. He giggles softly when I scatter more kisses over every inch of his face. Without much ado, I take his hands again, and drag him towards our bedroom. We strip to our boxers, and slip under the cold covers. The coldness is soon replaced by warmth when I feel Jean pressing his chest flush against mine, all the while throwing a leg over my hip cheekily. I kiss the top of his head, and like that, we fall within the folds of slumber, our bodies encased in each other's heat.

 

* * *

 

I wake up next morning comfortably, with warm sunlight shrouding over my bare body, a lazy smile on my face - and an empty space next to me. 

I sit up hurriedly. I focus my line of sight next to me, and I see it empty; nothing but sheets rumpled in haste. I glance at the clock, and realize that it's one in the afternoon. I slept in a little late... _Where had Jean gone?_ I think. I don't even hear anyone else. I bite my lip in worry. _What is he up to?_

As I lift my sheets up, I see something scrawled in black - on the inside of my left forearm. _What the hell...?_

I turn my wrist upright, and there, as sure as the day is long, I see words scribbled sharply - just the way Jean writes. I squint to make out the words:

_"I'm surprised you can't feel me writing this on you while you sleep - you are a heavy sleeper! :P Good morning, darling! As soon as you see this, get your ass up and meet me outside! (And BTW - wear something nice!)"_

With a lot of _Xs_ and _Os_ made by tracing my freckles, and a little heart, the note ends. I sigh, and rub a hand down my face. _That utter dork_ , I think. I hide my face behind my hands and squeal like a girl; Jean never admits to it, but he is a really, really big romantic. He secretly loves everything sappy, like in the movies, and judging by his efforts, he wants to relive them.

But I'm not complaining, I think, as I feel heat flushing my cheeks again;

_Not at all._

 

*

 

I quickly wash myself up, and wear some _nice_ clothes, the way Jean had suggested; I go for a mint-green button-down shirt, with white shorts (mostly because he loves that color on me).

Running fingers through my hair in an aimless attempt to pat some flyovers down, I walk outside of the cottage. The Sun shines brightly, and I have to squint under the light. My flip-flops touch the sand underneath me softly. I stop, and try to feel the sand under my feet. It felt so strange... I giggle giddily. I lift my head up towards the sky, and sign, drinking in the utter warmth and peace of it all.

"Looks like _someone_ is up and ready!"

I open my eyes, and see Jean, standing just where the sand started to thin. He wears a crisp white polo T-shirt, and shorts just like mine. He stands with his hands in his pockets - and he smiles at me. And I smile back. He waves at me, calling me towards him. As I walk a few steps ahead, I see that he is standing on a cloth, laid out for us - and it is laden with food.

"C'mon, Marco. Breakfast's gonna get cold!"

 

*

 

Like that, we sit on the cloth, and have breakfast, with the sea stretching out before us. Under the sunlight, the view is even more mesmerizing; sunshine falls onto the glittery expanse of the waters, and lights up everything. The sea-water is a faint blue, a blue so calming I can't help but sigh whenever I look at it. At night, the waves of the sea had sounded like roars of a proud animal - but in the afternoon, under the sun, it sounded like nothing but a soft purring sound, which could make your toes curl in utter satisfaction. The sea at night was chaotic yet beautiful, with its unthinkable depth and darkness; but in the morning, it seems more like a beautiful beast, tamed to show its effortless magnificence. (Call me a romantic, but I can't help but think all this through, hardly focusing on my sandwich at all).

After we eat, we keep our food away. Then Jean seats himself in between my legs, his back towards me. With a cup of steaming coffee in his hand (and a cup of tea in mine) he sighs peacefully, and leans back against my chest. I wrap an arm around him, and hug him tightly, spreading a few sneaky kisses on the back of his neck - and the way I feel his breath hitch around his coffee makes me grin.

It had been almost an hour with us silently enjoying our glorious view, with not so much as a sound disrupting it; the atmosphere was filled with nothing but the swishing and silent splashes of waves running into each other.

Jean stands up then, and stretches like a cat in front of me. As he raises his arms over his head, his shirt rides just over his waist, so that from where I'm sitting, I get a really, _really_ good view of his waist...

"Likin' the view, Marco?" says Jean, smirking at me.

I, on the other hand, blush profusely, looking away almost immediately. I mutter a weak, " _sh-shut up!_ " But Jean only laughs at that.

He digs his hands in his pockets, and walks towards the sea, right until he's at the very edge. When I approach his from behind as well, I see how the water licks all of the sand up, ending just ahead of Jean's toes, and then it retreats back. Jean is staring at it calmly, his breathing even and quiet.

"It's been so long since I last came to a beach."

He pauses. After letting out a weary sigh, he says, "My father used to love beaches, I remember. We… We used to go there a lot, when I was small…"

Without another word, I snake my arms around his waist from behind him, and hug him against me. He hums softly, and rests his head against my shoulder. There's a little restraint in him that I feel - and know - all too well; his parents had divorced when he was young, and it was still a sore topic for him. I kiss his shoulder softly, letting him know – feel - that ' _darling, I'm always here for you._ '

But Jean continues, his weariness now much clearer: "I remember, when I was eight years old, we used to come to a beach in our old town, and - and we used to have _so much fun_. Mom would laugh; Dad would laugh with her, and would even kiss her. Even I was happy..." With another sigh, he tells me, "But then, just one month later, they decided to split up."

The bitter edge to his words makes me cling onto him harder, but he welcomes it, gripping my arms just as tightly. I hug him tightly, trying to unravel every tightly-spun nerve within his body, dissolving them until he is happy and at peace again.

"How... How can such little time change so much? It's - it's unfair- it's... It's _wrong_." He shakes his head, and says, "I've never been in any beach since then, just... Just trying to bury that _fucking_ memory..." He huffs, and shakes his head harder. He is shaking too - from all the sadness, all the pain he had to go through, and he could have broken there. But he tries not to. He holds himself together. He holds up his crumbling pieces long enough to keep all his pent-up emotions at bay, but in the end it could hurt him. I know how the effort can hurt you so much you end up feeling nothing at all. And that is why I hold him; I hold him up so that he doesn’t have to hurt – not alone. I hug him hard enough for every piece of his to snap right back into one - he had done the exact thing for me, too: and that is why I love him.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, darling, I love you," I whisper against his skin, scattering butterfly and whisper-soft kisses on every inch of his neck, and preaching those words to him over and over again, that _it's okay, I love you, I love you so much, Jean - so much._

He turns his head to catch my lips in his, and we share a soft, yet heated kiss at that moment. He turns around in my arms and kisses me more firmly, gripping the collars of my shirt. I cradle his jaws with my hands delicately, matching each swipe of his tongue with my own, sighing into his familiar taste and aroma. Once we do pull apart, we lean our foreheads against the other. Jean sighs, and I kiss his forehead, when I say:

"Its okay, Jean. It's okay. I'm here for you - forever."

He doesn't reply, and his eyes were shut close. Maybe he’s trying to let my words sink into his bones so that he never has to forget that he is not alone anymore; or maybe he’s trying to regain the footing he lost, trying to steady himself. I hold his waist in one hand, and trace his cheek bone softly, with the pad of my thumb, letting my presence – if not anything else – try to get him back.

After another moment's pause, he sighs. He holds my hand, and kisses my palm, scattering my skin with feather-light brushes of his lips. He grips my fingers, and I notice him tracing my ring - the way I did yesterday. He then opens his eyes, and looks up at me; he isn't crying, but his eyes glitter with emotion, the amber hue growing lighter. His eyes seem bigger than they were - all because of the way he just stares at me.

His voice shakes when he speaks, "Th-thank you, Marco. Thank you. I love you too..."

I nudge my nose against his, smiling at those words - I love you too. I kiss his lips once more, before enveloping him into my arms again, holding him tight. He snuggles impossibly closer, and I smile into the crown of his head.

After a few long moments of utter silence, I turn my head towards the sea. It is brighter still, and the waters lap thinly at our feet, and then fall back. I instantly think of something.

Without another moment's pause, I extract myself from Jean, and lean down to slip off my shoes. Once I do, Jean asks, "What are you doing...?"

I don't answer him now. I'm too distracted by the way the grainy sand feels under my feet; it _is_ grainy, but it still feels unusually... _soft_. I can't help but wiggle my toes around it, biting a cheeky smile. I glance up at him, and I see him biting his lip in worry; he understands my intention, I can tell. But he's silent.

"Will you join me?" I hold out my hand closer to him. I raise my eyebrows in question.

Jean worries his lip for another daunting moment - and then he gives in. He slips his shoes off easily, and takes my hand. His cheeks glow pink when he mutters, "That sounded like something a fuckin' _Disney prince_ would say."

I laugh as I keep both our shoes aside. When I do so, I hear Jean ask, "Have you done this before...?"

"U-um, no, actually…" I reply lamely, feeling a leaden sort of emptiness hang in my chest. Of course I never went to the beach; we never knew of such place, and besides - the doctor's prescription was to stay away from such public places. But that was _before_.

He simply nods. By the time I reach his side, Jean slips his fingers around mine, and he grins; that trademark grin of his. The one I absolutely adore. As it graces his features, he asks, "So, this is a first time for both of us, huh?"

I smile at that; here's a moment, where both Jean and I need help in, and when we grip each other's hands, we both were willing.

Swallowing up some pride, I take the first step, and Jean follows. One step, and I feel damp sand touch me instead of dry sand. Another step, and the water _just_ touches my feet. One more, and a wave begins rushing over, forward, forward, until it's only a few feet away from me. I gulp dryly. _And then..._

And _then_ , the water runs over my feet. The water was cooler, and I jump a little in surprise. Jean grips my hand tightly, and urges us to take one more step. This time, the water floods over my feet more eagerly, until my ankles are under the waves. I gasp when I feel it rushing back - and it feels as if, as if I might _fall_ -

"Hey, hey, Marco. You're doing great!" I hear Jean say. He steps in front of me, takes both of my hands, and pulls me a little. Instead of looking at the sparkling water around me, I look at him; he's smiling at me proudly, pulling me forward with little tugs, making me embrace the water slowly. I smile a little more comfortably, as I feel the coolness of water pool around me more. As much as this feels so alien to me, it doesn't seem like that when the love of my life is staring at me like that, and smiling so beautifully, and holds my hands in his so, so protectively-

By the time my long, _long_ trail of thought about Jean ends, I feel the waves lap up around my legs. I look down, and see that the sea-water pools halfway up my _shins_. I feel a laugh bubbling inside of me, and I let it out; I feel excitement course through me, as I look at Jean happily - I'm in the water! I can finally feel, and see, what it's like to be in the waters like this...

Jean slips his fingers out of my grasp. I look at him, feeling puzzled, but all he does is shove his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head to his side - towards the beach. With a smile, he says, "Go on."

I lick my lips, and take one more step. The oncoming wave touches my bare knees, and I shiver. But as droplets of salty water spray over my face, I laugh, wiping my face. This time when the tide retreats, I don't fall. Instead, I allow it to push me ahead. I touch the blue waters with the tips of my fingers. It's cold, and yet it's amazing. It's comfortable. I cup the water in my hands, holding it towards my face. The water trickles down my arms, but I just laugh louder. I throw the water in the air, letting the tiny droplets rain over me. The mere thought of being able to hear the crashing waves, feel the cool wetness over me, being able to see all of the majesty of the world - it makes me laugh like a madman.

I spin around, laughing joyously - taking in everything, all at once. I could _cry_.

I turn around, and see Jean. He's still quiet, watching me peacefully. He's happy, but I don't like the fact that he walked back out of the water.

I pout at him. "Come in, Jean!"

He just shakes in head, "No, no, Marco. Who knows what's in the waters..."

I roll my eyes, replying by spraying water all over him. I laugh when I see him splutter in disgust. "It's clean!"

" _No_."

"But baby-"

"Not falling for it."

"Jean-"

" _Nuh-uh_!"

I _humph_ in defeat. I scratch the back of my head in thought. I have to bring him in somehow, even if I have to drag him-

An idea pops in my mind.

I squint at Jean.

Jean stares back.

I squint harder.

He raises an eyebrow.

I pull up the sleeves of my shirt, and walk one step towards him.

His eyes grow wide, when he realizes:

"Whatever you're thinking, _don't_."

I grin up evilly at him, and take one step more.

"Shit, Marco, _no_ -" he stutters, taking one step back.

When I take one step forward, he falls back, until I start running at him. He squeaks, and runs toward the other direction. But in the end, I've always had longer legs than him; after a few paces, I grab his waist. Jean flails, crying out in surprise when I lock him in place. His panicked cries turn into a gasp when I lift him up, bridal-style.

" _Marco Bodt, what do you think you're doing?!_ " Jean exclaims, throwing his arms around my neck.

I say cheekily, "I'm escorting my prince, is all!"

"Escorting my- oh my God, Marco, _let me go_!"

"Nope!"

Jean flails and fights against my grip uselessly - but I only hold him tighter. The water's up till my hips by the time he gives up fighting. Instead, his eyes grow wider.

"Marco, I swear to God, you better let me go now or I'll-"

"Okay then!"

And I do. I let him go - right over the water.

With a loud squeal, Jean falls under the water. His bubbly splutters get washed under the waves that crash over us. All the while, I'm laughing my ass off; that epic squeal of his is something I don't think I'll get over - ever. I'm wiping away tears of mirth by the time I realize - he hasn't come out yet. No curses, no fuming - no nothing. _Where did he go?_

"Um, J-jean...?"

I look down in the water. But I can't see anything - everything is murky. I edge my face closer to the rippling water.

And I shouldn't have done that.

Within a second, a pair of arms shoots out of the surface, and splash a huge wave of water over me. The water slaps me across my face, and I splutter, wiping salty water away from my eyes.

By the time I recover, I do see Jean; he's emerging from the water, soaking and dripping wet from everywhere. The sight should have pleased me very, _very_ much, but in reality, a wet, yet fuming Jean is not a really _joyous prospect_.

I do the first thing that comes in my mind; _I run._

" _Marco!_ " I hear him shout from behind me, but I'm already running. I turn around, and see him keeping up with me, meeting each jog of mine with a longer, much angrier stride. The water laps up till my knees as I wade away from him, but he's already onto me. I turn around, and hold my hands up as a sign of truce, but he all but runs right at me. I squeak louder, and Jean pushes me into the water.

The sea envelopes my face for a brief moment, and all I see is blue, and feel the water rush against my skin. Needing air, I sit on my knees, and push my face out of the water, gasping. Beside me, I see Jean mirroring my position.

He's panting hard, but grinning behind wet bangs plastered over his forehead. He says, " _Now_ we're even."

I laugh at that, and flick some water at him. He flicks some back at me, but then leans in for a kiss. This time, however, I lean back.

He cocks an eyebrow up. But I only bite my lip.

He leans in a little more, but he's falling under the water again, as I dodge him, standing up before he'd get near me. _This is going to be fun_ , I think.

"What the hell, Marco?" he asks, pouting.

"Better catch me, _Kirschtein_!" I sing.

His eyes narrow in frustration, but being the infamous Jean Kirschtein he is, he stands up. He stalks close to me, a smug grin on his face. I give him a grin of my own, backing away two steps to match every one step of his. With every move he makes to get near me, I dodge past it. This cheeky game of roulette continues long enough, and Jean grows even more frustrated. But I'm having the time of my life.

The water's up my hips again, when I call out, "C'mon, Jean! Don't you want me?"

He growls, and then jogs up a little faster. I back up slowly now. He's wading closer to me, and I stop moving - suddenly wanting him around me again. I stand, holding out my arms for him, when he crashes into me.

His arms wrap around my neck when his lips meet mine. The moment our lips connect, a wave crashes into my back, but we don't feel it. Instead, I wrap my arms around his waist, and lift him up out of pure glee. He smiles against my mouth when he wraps his legs around my waist. I sigh at the intimacy of that moment; his mouth open against mine, and his tongue tracing my lower lip. I concede, and eagerly fill myself with his scent, his feeling, his taste. He tastes of coffee, salt - and that faint lemongrass taste he's always had. I swipe my tongue against his, deepening the kiss, and I feel his fingers tug at my hair. I taste a soft moan around Jean's mouth, and it makes my leg almost melt.

After forever, we decide that we need to breathe. Slowly, our lips pull away, and we rest our foreheads against each other. When we open our eyes, looking at each other, our faces split into huge grins. Our soft breaths fill the silence that ensues - even the crashes of waves around us seem to fade away.

Jean is the first one to break the silence: " _That_... That was nice."

I can't even speak through my smile; instead, I scatter kisses over Jean's jaw, cheeks, nose, and lips. He tries to kiss me again, but he just can't get past my grin. We laugh against each other's lips, truly enjoying our little Universe we created, just for that moment.

 

*

 

By the time we were done playing and chasing and kissing each other in the sea, the Sun had been touching the horizon. A deep pink bled through the sky, and grew darker at the edge of the horizon. Above it all, I could see a few stars blinking at us, marking the beginning of night, and ending of a day spent well.

After we dry ourselves, we make our way towards our cottage. Right at the porch, I see a table, filled with food; it even had a pair of candles lit up brightly, and some champagne - the chef's own best, Jean told me. I feel elated at the sight of it all; Connie was definitely not lying when he said that "The Maria Resort" was like _Paradise_.

We eat our food, and enjoy every morsel - I try not to choke on every bite I hurriedly eat; it is fucking delicious. We both finish fairly quickly, and drink a bit of champagne. The bubbly drink fills me up, and I feel soothingly _warm_. Jean's sighing away at the fizzy taste already. The day truly went perfectly.

Once we finish our drink, the air grows colder. And so, we make our way into the warmer cottage. We collapse onto our sofa, and sigh peacefully.

I speak first: "Wow, this place, it's just..." I sigh again, after which I say, "I could practically live here forever."

Jean rests his head against my shoulder, when he tells me, "Yeah... I'm just - just grateful I could do something _good_ for us - something that you'd love."

I kiss the top of his head, and lean into him. I close my eyes, when I whisper the truth, with a little hesitance: "But I... I don't think I've ever returned it all..."

The familiar weight of his next to me vanishes, when he sits up more attentively. His amber eyes grow hard, when he stares at me, confused.

But I ramble on, "I - I don't want to sound ungrateful - I do love you, so much - but... But you've done so much for me. You noticed me, you took care of me, you loved me, and you even proposed me first. I mean, I don't-"

I stop myself, gulping dryly. I know I'm being petty, letting stupid doubts eat me up. But still; Jean has indeed been my crutch since the day we met, but have I ever returned it? Have I ever done something for him? The fact that I can't recall anything like that makes my eyes wet.

But I continue, "I want nothing but to return it all to you, but I don't think I'll - I'll be able t-to do it..." I end dejectedly, looking at my hands helplessly.

" _Marco_."

Jean calls my name softly. I lift my eyes to look at him.

He's smiling softly, a tinge of melancholy tinting his eyes. He sighs, when he asks, "You really believe you've never anything for me?"

I slowly nod.

He reaches for my hand, and entwines his fingers around mine. He stares at our hands, until he speaks softly:

"Remember when I told you about my parents? At that beach, when my Mom and Dad were laughing together, I remember thinking that day, that, _'hey, is this what love looks like?_ ' And I had believed it. I believed that there is love in this world. Only after their divorce, just one month later, it then... It _shattered_."

I wonder if only his blissful idea of love had shattered in his tender youth - or his whole soul completely.

He continues, still staring at our hands. "Since then, I - I stopped believing in love. I stopped believing that anyone in this world is worth loving. I stopped believing _I_ was worth loving. I stopped believing that this world could be a bright place like the young-me thought."

He smiles up at me, when he says, "But then... I met you.

"I saw you at that street, minding your own business. You looked so... So at peace - even when those kids made fun of you. And- and when I got to _know_ you, you blew me away. You- you were a man, who- who could not see, and yet you loved the world. You loved the world more than _anyone_.

"That's what you did for me, Marco. You helped me love the world again. You kept me from destroying myself - you kept me from becoming bitter. You made me _love_ the world. You made me feel alive. You fixed me, darling. _You fixed me._ "

He kisses my hands repeatedly, after which he tells me, "You taught me how to love. You taught me how to feel. You- you loved me, when I th-thought I was - I was _incapable_ of being loved. And- and I just-"

He sniffs, and presses his forehead against mine. I can feel tears falling down my eyes, but I can't bring myself to care - not with Jean smiling like that.

"Marco, darling," he whispers, "don't ever think you did nothing for me. You did everything for me; _everything_."

I can't stop myself; I lean down and kiss the crook of his neck softly. I can feel him sigh shakily. I cradle his left cheek with my hand, and trail kisses slowly up his neck, leaving a trail of goose pimples where my breath strays far too long. When I kiss the edge of his jaw, I feel fingers knot into my hair. I scatter more kisses across the line of his jaw, his cheeks - and then the corner of his mouth, stopping there. Jean's eyes darken when he stares at me, his pupils blown wide.

"I love you so much, Jean," I whisper, but he crashes his lips against mine.

I open my mouth instantly, and kiss Jean passionately. Jean's hands are in my hair, pulling at them insistently, and I moan into him. He swallows them all, kissing me deeply. I can taste the champagne on his tongue, and I take it all in over again, and again, and again.

He breaks the kiss before I do. He is panting, as he whispers, "Marco, _please_..."

In silence, I take his hand in mine, and lead him to our bedroom. Before I even open the bedroom door, he starts kissing me, and runs his hands down my chest lovingly. By the time I fumble with the knob, opening the door, he presses up against me harder, even loosening a few buttons expertly. As we near our bed, Jean kisses away my tears, replacing them with pure, pure love.

Before I know it, I'm being pushed onto our bed. With a huff, I land heavily. My breath is quickly drawn right out of my chest, when Jean literally crawls over me, looking so _predatory,_  as he straddled my hips. He doesn't waste anymore time; he undoes all of my buttons expertly, until he peels my shirt off of me. The minute the fabric leaves my chest, his lips latched onto my exposed skin; he kisses, licks and bites at my freckles, scattered over my neck, with a ferocity I know too well. As his sloppy kisses trail down to my collar-bone, I moan softly, already wanting way, way more. One rather harsh bite into the slender bone elicits a sharp hiss out of me, and he chuckles. I start tugging at his shirt impatiently. In one swift motion, Jean takes it off, throwing it behind him. Immediately, I sit up, and start running my hands down his chest, feeling his skin flush with each touch. I press my lips against his chest, and run a thumb over his nipples. He throws his head back, and moans my name airily. Next thing I know, I feel his hips rutting into mine. I rock against him, feeling his hardness through his shorts. We both moan loudly now, us rocking our hips in a rough rhythm, already growing impatient. I can definitely feel my length harden against his grinding.

Jean urges me to climb up the bed, and I do so; once my head hits the pillow, I feel his warm lips envelope mine. I kiss him deeply, running shaky hands down his back, pressing him closer, closer, so much closer. We both moan when his body settles in between my legs - so close, yet not enough. I tug at his hair, knowing full well how much he loves it. The growl that accompanies him is what I _whimper_ for. He bites down at my bottom lip hard, and then gently sucks on it. At the same time, he grinds his hips into mine perfectly. My back arches, and I moan out his name. My hips lift up on their own accord - ramming right into his. He gasps against my lips, and meets the gesture with another rut of his own.

"Oh, _Jean_ ," I whine.

Jean starts kissing down my neck again, down till my chest - stopping there to kiss along my heart. He tentatively runs a tongue over my nipple, grinning when he notices me shiver. I moan again when he pinches the other between his fingers. I bite my lip hard - the stimulation is driving me _crazy_.

"Baby, you look so _beautiful_ like this, _fuck_ ," he says huskily. It instantly makes my skin heat up - and other places too.

Without another moment's pause, his kisses continue south, growing slower and much sloppier. He licks playfully at my navel, and I giggle - but my breath catches my throat when he's digging his nose in my happy trail.

He breathes deeply, and then unzips me, and takes off my shorts swiftly, revealing my painful hardness against my boxers. It's pitching up a _tent_ , I can clearly see. My face heats up even more.

But Jean sighs at the sight, as if he wants nothing else in the entire world. He traces my dick through my insanely tight boxers with a sly finger, until he stops right at the tip, where there's a pooling wetness. I loosen a frustrated sigh. That sigh turns into a loud, garbled gasp when he swipes his tongue at it.

He enjoys my reaction, I can see. He cups my cock in his hand, and the friction I feel is _insane_ – I whimper shakily. He starts rubbing up and down my length through my boxers, and I sigh as I rock into his hand gently. I can feel my cock dripping, and Jean dips his head, running his tongue over the wetness pooling at new places.

" _Jean_ , please, baby," I moan softly, rolling my hips to make my point.

He grins, but takes off my boxers nevertheless. As my erection sprang free, I can't help the sigh that escapes my lips. I look down at Jean, who's staring at it - almost hungrily.

He cups my balls in his hands, stroking them lightly and _teasingly_ , and grins at my frustrated groan. He bites his lips when he runs a thumb over the head of my cock slowly, surely. I whimper again, already clawing at the sheets for more, but Jean loves taking his sweet time to map everything about me first. A bead of precome pools on the head - and Jean licks at it. I gasp at the slick sensation, shutting my eyes. His hand gets busy pumping my hardened length slowly. He then takes my weeping head into his mouth, and _sucks_. My back arches, and I moan a string of curses, my mouth falling open wordlessly. I tangle my fingers into his hair, and try not to pull them of his scalp.

" _Fuck_ , you sound so pretty-" he rasps, but continues no more - for he suddenly takes me all in his mouth. I cry out in pleasure. My back arches completely off the bed, and I pull at his hair. Thankfully, Jean doesn't stop; he bobs his head up and down my length, and whatever he can't fit in his mouth, he plays with his fingers. What leaves me a moaning mess is when Jean starts _humming_ around my cock, his vibrations sending chills through my whole body - he has to pin my hips down to keep me from thrusting into his mouth. I'm moaning so loud and _in need_ that I'm sure the manager could hear. But I don't care - all that matters is Jean; Jean pleasuring me, Jean taking me in his mouth, Jean swirling his tongue languidly over my cock's dripping head, Jean dragging his teeth just hard enough down the underside, oh, _Jean, Jean, Jean-_

I don't realize how loud I'm moaning Jean's name over and over again, or how much I'm quivering under him. My legs start shaking badly, almost losing it. My heart's racing, my blood's roaring, I'm close-

"Jean, J-jean - _oh, fuck!_ I won't last, Jean- _ngh_!" I can feel heat pool at my hips, I can feel myself being pushed right at the edge of bliss - _there_ , almost _there-_

But Jean pulls away with a lewd pop right when I was about to lose it all. I'm panting, and still moaning his name aimlessly, like a chant. He lets me catch my breath, before he slowly crawls over me again, and kisses me softly. I'm the one who deepens it immediately, loving the way I can faintly taste myself on his palette. I kiss him hard, needing him more than I need oxygen. The impatience soon kicks in again, as I drag my nails up his back slowly, making him arch against my body so _beautifully_.

"Fuck, Marco," he hums against my lips, drinking in my sounds of pleasure. He leans back, and shuffles through the drawers for his stock. Just as he pulls out some lube and condoms, I stop him.

"W-wait, Jean."

He does stop, but not without a confused expression.

"What's wrong, darling?"

I bite my lip, trying to form some coherent words. I start playing with the sheets, trying to say something. I look anywhere but at him - the ceiling, the sheets, my hands - until I stutter it out:

"I - I just... I wanted t-to do it this time... On _y-you,_ if it's okay..."

I feel my face heat up, and I hide the blush behind my hands. Then, a nervous, crippling silence ensues. Jean's still not replying. I peek from behind my fingers, and then I see Jean; he's just... _smiling_. He's smiling in that soft way he always does, whenever I worry too much over something. But still, this one is prettier; his chest glistens with a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks glow a faint pink. His eyes glimmer as he stares at me quietly.

He shakes his head, as he giggles, "You're so fucking _cute_."

I just groan in my hands, trying to undo what I just did _\- ugh._

But soon, I feel tiny kisses on my knuckles. They continue up my fingers, until I take my hands off my face - then, he kisses my forehead once, then my nose, and finally, my lips. As he pulls apart, he whispers shakily:

"Yes, Marco; _please_."

It's all the permission I need; instantly, I cover his mouth with mine, and kiss the breath right out of him. He moans deeply, pressing his whole body against mine. I hold his hips tightly, and flip us over - so Jean's under me. I feel him groan when he feels me settle between his legs. It's then that I realize that he hasn't even taken off his shorts yet. I solve that problem straight away; I trail my hand down south, until I brush his cock. He gasps against my mouth. I bite his lower lip, red, pretty, and kiss-swollen, while I rub his length. Jean whimpers against my lips, as he starts rocking himself against my palm, and the pooling wetness I can feel leaves me breathless; the tiny noises and curses Jean keeps on saying turn me into a mess.

Feeling impatient too soon, I dip a hand beneath his shorts and boxers. The long sigh I hear from him, as I grip his length is all I need to hear; I start pumping him slowly, taking my torturous time. Jean's moaning my name.

“ _Mm_ , Marco, _oh_ ,” he hums. He removes his lips from my lips, and instead dips his head to bite my neck, sucking and licking my skin to leave enough bruises to last a week. But I don't complain; a particularly hard tug at his member makes Jean groan in impatience and pleasure, rutting roughly against my hand.

“M-more, baby,” he rasps against my neck, “ _more-_ "

I moan at his sudden outburst. Quickly, I rip both his shorts and boxers off, so he's naked and panting right under me. I trail kisses down his neck, and pause to bite hard around his collar bones - enough to mark him as mine; _mine, mine, mine_.

"You're mine, baby, _mine_ ," I whisper against a bruise I leave at the crook of his neck. I trail sloppy kisses all over his chest - running a tongue over his nipples just to hear him gasp. I kiss him across his chest, the valley down his ribs, till his stomach. I drag my teeth along his sharp hipbones, and he sighs below me. Quickly enough, I take the lube from beside us, and moisten my fingers up. One hand placed beside Jean's head, bracing myself, I hover over him. Without wasting any time, I trace his tight entrance. Jean shivers underneath me, still staring at me with fucked-out eyes.

In no time, I'm pushing my finger in him. He's warm and tight around me, and I slowly thrust it in and out of him, loosening him. Jean sighs, and I feel his hips jerk with each thrust of my finger. Soon, deeming it the right time, I push in two fingers; his expression changes as the sudden change stings, and I give him time. I kiss the bruises I had left, and biting and licking around new ones. Then, I feel his hips jerking and twitching around my fingers, begging for more. I start thrusting my fingers a little deeper into him. His cock twitches with each push of my digits, and he moans softly, his mouth falling open. Precome drips down his thick cock, and I lean down to lick at it; he gasps, and I feel his cock twitch again against my lips. I take his head in my mouth, and suck a little. Jean cries out in pleasure, already clawing through my scalp, and his salty, bitter taste around my mouth is so familiar, so _him_ , that I can't help but moan around his cock. I continue licking and sucking his cock, as my fingers search around for his spot. Two fingers quickly replace three, and I start scissoring my digits. Jean whines airily, one hand still in my hair. I keep on searching around for the spot that leaves him screaming.

My fingers curl, and I thrust deep in him. They brush past a spot, and Jean suddenly cries out.

" _There_!" he moans, "right there, baby, there - _ah, fuck!_ "

I start massaging that spot, and Jean's crying my name out over and over again. I stop sucking his cock, instead looking down at him. One hard brush against the bundle of nerves makes his back arch right off the bed, and he looks so fucking _beautiful_ this way, sweating and moaning and crying my name like that - I can't help the moan that escapes my lips.

"Fuck, baby _, look at you_ ," I whisper, "You're so beautiful like this, shit-"

One more thrust, and I take my fingers out, wiping them against the sheets. Sitting back, I rip open the condom hastily, and roll it on me. After slicking myself up with lube, I hold his knees, and drag him towards my lap. I hover over him again, both my hands placed beside his head. Jean looks up at me, panting heavily, sweat beading over his skin. Then, slowly, he takes my hands, and threads his fingers through mine. I place our entangled hands above his head, pinning him down onto the mattress, as I squeeze his fingers softly.

He whispers against my lips, spreading his legs apart - for me, all for me, "C'mon, baby, _I'm yours_."

And I thrust into him.

We both moan out. He feels so incredibly _tight_ and _hot_ around me, I can feel my brain fizzling already. I don't move yet, not until Jean's comfortable enough. In the mean time, I duck my head and kiss his neck softly, whispering sweet nothings against his skin, dragging my tongue at his glistening sweat, relishing the taste of him - and the fact that he's all mine.

Soon, Jean wraps his legs around my hips, and rolls his hips into mine. Taking that as a sign, I press my forehead against his, and start pulling out a little, and then thrusting in. He starts whimpering softly, pressing himself against me a little more insistently, wanting more, more, more. Soon enough, we create a pace, and as I start thrusting in him a little harder, Jean's moans turned louder. I take one hand from his grasp, and wrap it around his waist, pressing us together insanely closer, and he wraps his free arm around my shoulders, digging his nails into my skin. Cheekily, I grab and squeeze his ass, and he gasps at that.

Lifting his hips a little, I pushed myself into him deeper. Then Jean moans loudly, and another deep thrust into him makes Jean cry out my name even louder - I hit his spot. I start slamming my cock into that spot of his, and soon enough, his loud moans turned into screams of pure pleasure. He drags his nails across my back hard - enough for me to hiss at the stinging feeling, but it makes me ram harder into him. His heels dig into my back hard, as he cries out my name:

"Oh, Marco - ah, you're so _good_ like that - so - _ngh_ , fuck, _Marco!_ "

My own moans turn louder as I thrust deeper and faster into my lover. I cry his name out, praising the way he sounds, tastes, feels - he feels so hot around me, he feels hot, and tight, and fucking perfect, this way around me - and I don't ever want to let go. We both are crying out each other's name, as we come closer to our release.

"Jean, baby, baby, I - _ah_ , I'm close, baby-"

"Kiss me, darling, _kiss me-_ "

I slam my lips against his hard. Teeth clacked, tongues swirled, and we drank each other's sounds of pleasure and pure love.

I thrust into him, and his back arches off the bed, moaning my name against my lips loudly. I pull my lips away from him, and just look at him; I relish the way he falls apart like that, crying my name out like a prayer constantly, and I fall in love with him all over again.

"I love you, baby, I love you so much, - oh, Jean, _Jean_ \- you’re _mine,_ " I moan out, not even knowing what I'm exactly saying - I'm too high on Jean to care.

He grips my hand, pinned against the bed, and he moans, "Baby, I'm yours, I'm yours - _yours, yours, yours_ , ah!"

He stops forming words, instead crying out incoherent words and noises that make no sense. We moan around each other, as I slam myself into him over and over. I'm almost at the edge of that cliff, and I can feel Jean there too, his muscles tightening, body twisting, legs gripping me, nails scratching at my skin - we're so close, right there-

With one hard thrust, and a loud cry, we both fall.

Everything turns white. I feel the pooling warmth in my hips let loose, until I'm coming inside Jean. He came moments later, with a wordless cry, slick, white strings covering our chests, and I collapse over him. He wraps both his arms around me, kissing my sweat-drenched hair.

After what feels like forever, I pull myself out of him, with a sigh from both of us. I tie and throw the condom away, and clean our chests up with a paper-towel. Then, I settle beside Jean, who's still panting.

As soon as I rest my head against the pillow, Jean snuggles against me. I wrap one arm around his waist, and the other under his head, cushioning him. I kiss his forehead slowly. We stay in silence for a while, still trying to catch up with our breaths. After some time, I feel Jean tracing incoherent patterns over my chest, maybe connecting up my freckles in a million ways - he loved doing that, after all. I start running a hand through his damp hair, scratching his scalp until I hear him sigh peacefully.

After a long while, I hear his tiny voice, "Baby?"

"Yeah, Jean?"

He doesn't look at me when he asks, "Did you... Did you mean what you said before...?"

I'm about to ask what he was talking about, until I recalled:

 

_"You're mine, baby, mine."_

_“Jean- you’re mine."_

 

I kiss his forehead again, as I say, "Of course I meant it, baby - you _are_ mine. Why would you ask...?" 

"'Cause... 'Cause no one's ever said that before..." he whispers, hiding his face in my chest.

"Hey, baby - look at me," I take my hand off his waist, and lift it to cradle his face. I make him look at me; his amber eyes once again glow, even in the darkness of the night. As the moon throws its pale glow over Jean, his eyes show something underneath everything he has made himself to be; behind all his bravado, his love, his being - there, lies an insecurity, a fear, that is all too obvious in the darkness of the night.

I trace his left cheekbone, as I say, "Jean, you are mine. And I mean every word I say: you are mine. You will always be mine - forever. If- if no one has said it, then-" I press my forehead against his, and I smile at him. "Then I'm glad I'm the first."

Tears brim in his eyes, and he threatens to spill it all, but he doesn't. Instead, he smiles a watery, yet beautiful smile. He sniffs a little, when he wraps his arms around my neck.

"Then… Then, I'm glad to be yours too." he whispers.

"Forever?" I ask, biting a cheeky smile, but a feeling of uncertainty still carried itself across my words. Maybe we both had insecurities of our own, hiding them beneath the folds of a persona we call our self; an underlying feeling of fear that only the night could unravel - like it did now.

"Yes, Marco; forever." Jean replies. "Forever - and _ever_ \- and _ever_ \- and ever - _and ever_ -" he says, kissing my lips between every " _ever_ " he utters. I laugh, unable to stop myself - I feel happiness course through me like a disease, making me feel as if I'm floating. I feel so happy - with making love with Jean, with him loving me like that, with him kissing me like that, with him being mine... Everything feels perfect.

We kiss until our lips feel numb and tingly, and we hold each other, until we fall asleep in each other's arms.

 

* * *

 

I wake up the next morning happily, except with a dull pain in my legs. But everything else was... was perfect; the Sunlight streamed over me, making me feel warm, the covers tangled over me cozily, with- 

-with Jean Kirschtein, drawing something over my chest with a pen.

"What the- _Jean_?" I croak, my noise thick with sleep, but Jean hushes me up:

"Wait, wait, baby! I'm almost done- and, _voila!"_ He puts aside his pen, and points at my chest. I look at it, and see: right above my heart, Jean has drawn a heart on my chest. It isn't a free-lance doodle, exactly; he has made it by connecting my freckles with ink, till it ended in a slightly wonky, but otherwise _cute_ heart.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist," he laughs, but I roll my eyes. I land on the pillows with a loud huff, rubbing away the sleep from my eyes. Jean crawls up to my right side, and kisses my cheek.

"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty," he whispers. I lean up to catch his mouth in a soft kiss. I smile lazily against his lips, soon hugging him against me.

"Jeez, you're a big bear-" Jean grunts, but I just hug him tighter, digging my face in the crook of his neck.

Jean lifts an eyebrow at me, smirking, "You that exhausted after last night, hm?"

I blush under his gaze, to which he just laughs. He then scoots a little, settling himself against my chest again, tracing the heart he made over my chest. His finger skitters over the skin so delicately, and just seeing him like that, so in peace, is something I could do forever.

"You don't hate me for this, do you?" Jean pouts.

I roll my eyes again, and glance at that doodled heart. I laugh a little, when I reply, "Aw, I could never get angry at you..." Instantly, another pops in my mind.

"Besides, this could look like a neat tattoo, hm?"

He doesn't reply. I meet his gaze, and see him smiling a tiny, almost nervous smile at me. His cheeks burn a pretty pink, when he asks, "Y-you'd do that?"

"Of course I would," I say, "But - on one condition."

His eyes widen in surprise at that.

"Close your eyes." I insist.

Jean easily does so, slipping his eyes shut; I take that moment to take that pen from where he kept it. I sit upright, and take his left hand, lifting it close to me. Jean cries out in surprise, but I refuse to tell him now - I poke my tongue out in concentration, turning his wrist upwards, and scribble one precious word over it.

"Okay, open your eyes," I say.

When he does, he questions me, "The hell was that for, Marco? For all I know, you drew a _dick_ on my arm-"

He stops when he looks at his wrist. And he stops when he reads the word I wrote -

 _Forever._  

"You need to get that tattooed, too," I declare. 

He laughs softly, and nods in agreement.

"Deal, Marco. Deal," he agrees.

He then throws his arms around my neck, and whispers three words against my lips before kissing me - I love you. I mumble the same against him, but I don't think I have to; he knows. He has always known. He knows me, and I know him. He knows I love him, just as I know he loves me - and there is nothing more perfect than that. I only pray that it stays that way, forever. _Forever._

His kisses send me slamming onto the bed with an _oomph_. We both even have morning breath, but we really don't care at all. His familiar weight over my body again, his tiny noises as I run soothing hands over his back - it all sounds like _home_.

As we pull apart slowly, Jean smirks.

I squint at him.

His smirk grows larger, till he rocks his hips against mine, just a little, and I gasp.

I bite my lip, but he just grins at my reaction.

"How does _Round Two_ sound to you?" he asks cheekily.

I don't reply. I roll my hips into his harder. He chuckles, and starts running heated hands over my body again, kissing me hard enough to draw out a moan from both of us.

That way, I fall into him again, getting lost into all the folds, all the faces, all the pieces of Jean that he offers me. I'll love his beauty, his bitterness, his grace, his fear, and his bravery equally; and I'll be there to reveal more of his perspectives, the faces of his that I've yet to see - I'll be there. I'll be there for him through it all; I'll help him when need be, I'll hold him when he needs me; I am his, and he is mine, after all. We know we're there for each other, and we know that love each other so, so much.

Since we have each other for all this time, I don't think a " _forever_ " of ours is too far away.

 

_*_

 

_The End._

 

 

* * *

 

[look i have a tumblr](http://captaink-irschtein.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first smut.. Gosh I feel really nervous i hope it wasn't too bad! Do tell me how I did!  
> And to all who read this story: thank you for reading this, and thank you for enjoying it too! I love you all - i love you all! <3

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a three-shot, which will be as follows:  
> 1) Jean proposing to Marco  
> 2) Their marriage <3  
> 3) Their honey-moon (huehuehue)
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this! Please read and review! I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!


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